


it's an inherently romantic gesture (you keep those)

by contemplativepancakes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: (no infidelity), Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Dubcon for dean/casifer, Fix It Fic, M/M, Minor Dean Winchester/Other(s), The Mixtape, canon depictions of violence, depression/suicide TW, temporary MCD (canon compliant)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2020-09-18 21:04:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 126,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20319478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/contemplativepancakes/pseuds/contemplativepancakes
Summary: “I’m not leaving here without you. Understand?” Dean asks, leaving no room in his tone for argument.“I understand,” Cas says, with something that Dean would say looks like hope and despair warring on his face.Later that night, Dean sits beside Cas in the cave they had managed to clear out. He thinks back to all the lingering touches and looks they’ve exchanged and his frenzied search of purgatory for Cas. He can feel the resolve that’s failed him for years forming.What would happen if Dean and Cas managed to pull their heads out of their asses while they were in purgatory? This is their canon compliant romance behind closed doors from season 8 to beyond.Will update after s15 concludes!





	1. Purgatory Paranoia

**Author's Note:**

> This has been a labor of love, inspired by 60rd0m’s [ask game](https://pray4jensen.tumblr.com/) of how we wished supernatural would end. I answered, that in my wildest dreams, they would reveal to us that Cas and Dean have been together since purgatory. I was about mid season 8 in my perpetual rewatch at that point, and that thought kept niggling in the back of the mind that it would actually work out pretty dang neatly, and I can write what I want, and if self indulgent fan fic gap filler is what I want, then that is what I will write! Will update after s15 ends! <3

They find him by a river, with dirt streaked down his face. “Cas!” Dean hears himself call, but it doesn’t seem quite real. It’s like it’s happening on another plane of reality, in a dream, and isn’t that ironic when they’re already in purgatory? He and Benny have been hacking through monsters for months now, trying to find Cas, and here he is, doing something as mundane as kneeling next to a stream, washing dirt and blood off his hands. 

The colors in purgatory have always been muted, so Cas stands out in contrast to the dull background. Dean’s feet propel him forward, and he folds Cas into his arms, giving him a rough slap on the back. Cas’s arms stay stiffly at his sides, but Dean’s beyond relieved to have found Cas, and he can’t bring himself to care. “Damn, it’s good to see you. Nice peach fuzz,” he laughs, tugging his fingers in some of the coarse curls of Cas’s beard.

“Thank you,” Cas replies, as serious as ever, but Dean’s giddy enough for both of them. Honestly, he had almost given up hope of ever seeing Cas again, convinced the only way this was going to end was him stumbling upon Cas’s body, wings blackening the dirt beneath them.

Dean holds on until he hears Benny clear his throat behind them. “Cas, you should meet somebody. This is Benny. Benny, this is Cas.” 

“Why’d you bail on Dean?” Benny immediately asks with a growl in his throat. 

“Dude.” He can fight his own battles. He thinks he’s proven that much, at least. 

“The way I hear it, you two hit monster land, and hot wings here took off. I figure he owes you some backstory.” 

Dean smirks a bit at _hot __wings_, but quickly sobers when he hears Cas’s next statement. “I ran away.”

Dean had been picturing Cas being dragged off by the leviathan, ripped apart by a pack of weres, or any other number of unsavory fates, so he stares at Cas in disbelief. “You ran away?”

Cas blinks. “I had to.”

“That’s your excuse for leaving me with these gorilla wolves? You bailed out, and what, went camping? Cas, I prayed to you! Every night!”

“I know.” 

Dean glances at Benny out of the corner of his eye and sees him awkwardly scooting away from them. “You know? And you didn’t—what the hell’s wrong with you?” 

Dean listens to Cas feed him a bullshit line about how he ran to protect Dean. “Just leave me, Dean.” 

Benny looks like _he’s _ready to go, eyes darting around them like he’s sure a monster is going to pop out of the tree line any second, but Dean blunders on. “Cas, we’re going home.” 

“I can’t,” Cas insists. 

Dean looks at Benny pleadingly, and Benny rolls his eyes and tells Cas about the escape hatch out of purgatory. 

“I’m not leaving here without you. Understand?” Dean asks, leaving no room in his tone for argument. 

“I understand,” Cas says, with something that Dean would say looks like hope and despair warring on his face. 

Later that night, Dean sits beside Cas in the cave they had managed to clear out. 

“Where have you been, Cas? What have you been doing this whole time?” Dean asks softly, keeping quiet for Benny’s sake farther into the cave. Dean had volunteered to keep watch with Cas until Benny woke up and switched off with him. 

Cas is sitting so close to him, he can feel his answering shrug. “I’ve been surviving.” 

Dean thinks back to all the lingering touches and looks they’ve exchanged and his frenzied search of purgatory for Cas. He can feel the resolve that’s failed him for years forming. “Hey, I, uh, have something I’ve wanted to talk to you about for a while, but it’s never seemed like the right time.” 

Cas shoots him a wry smile, and Dean’s stomach flips. “The middle of purgatory is the right time for you?” 

Dean blushes, but he pushes on. He’s not going to wait another three years to get this out. “Cas, when I saw you go out in the middle of that lake with all those leviathans, I was really torn up about it, man. I had your damn coat in my trunk that whole time. Sam could barely stand me because I was moping so much. And then, I go looking for a faith healer, and I found you, and I was so goddamn happy.” 

“I was happy to see you, too, after I regained my memories,” Cas replies with that confused head tilt of his. 

_Fuck it_, Dean thinks and leans forward to cross the scant distance between them. He’s so close, he can feel Cas’s breath puffing onto his mouth before he leans forward and brushes his lips against Cas’s. Cas is frozen, so Dean pulls back. “I just, I can’t lose you again. I don’t know if I’d survive that,” he says. 

Cas looks up at Dean with startled eyes. Dean scrambles, “It’s fine, nothing has to change, I just wanted to do that at least once.” 

Staring straight at Dean, Cas deliberately shuffles forward. Dean can feel his leg warm up from Cas’s body heat, and Cas chastely presses his lips to Dean’s. Dean can feel his heart pounding. He hopes Cas can’t feel it from where his hand is resting on Dean’s neck. Cas leans back and cards his fingers through Dean’s hair. “I want this, too, Dean,” he whispers. 

Dean responds by leaning back in; he starts to press his tongue up against the seam of Cas’s lips, but he hears Benny shifting around in his sleep. They pull away from each other and share a small smile. Dean brushes his shoulder against Cas’s and pulls his hand into his lap. They’re in the same position when Benny wakes up a few hours later to take watch and tell Dean to get some sleep. To his credit, he doesn’t bat an eye. Dean is proud of his friend for a second, until he wonders why Benny didn’t seem surprised, even a little bit. 

The closer they get to the portal, the more withdrawn Cas seems to get. Dean had thought things were going well, but he just doesn’t know anymore. Does Cas not want to keep doing this after they got home? He breaches the topic while they are still covered in viscera from a vamp kill, and Cas looks at him like a moron. “I want to enjoy all the time I have left with you to the fullest.” 

“What do you mean, all the time you have left? Like, until I die? Morbid much?” Dean asks, but Cas gives him a sad smile and a peck on the cheek, so Dean lets it lie for now. 

“You guys are giving me cavities,” Benny grumbles from behind them. 

“You’re just jealous,” Dean says with a scowl but turns to Cas with a pleased smile. 

“Whatever, brother. I think we’re going to make it out tomorrow.” 

That night, Cas seems to kiss Dean a little more fervently than usual, but it might just be Dean’s imagination. 

“Dean, it’s a human portal. There’s still no proof that an angel can pass—” Cas is saying the next day before Dean interrupts him. 

“Stow it. You’re coming, and that’s final.” 

“I’m just saying,” Cas places a hand on Dean’s shoulder, and Dean eyes it suspiciously, “if it doesn’t work, thank you for everything.” 

Dean stomps away. “Save the Hallmark, okay? It’s going to work. Nobody gets left behind.”

A little later, Cas sidles up beside him and laces their hands together. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.” 

“You didn’t make me upset,” he says through gritted teeth, “There’s just no point of last words because we’re all going to be seeing each other topside.” 

“Just don’t blame yourself if something goes wrong,” Cas pleads, tugging on Dean’s hand. 

“Nothing is going to go wrong, but, fine, if that makes you feel better, whatever.” 

Cas brings their joined hands up to press against his lips, but it doesn’t do anything to ease Dean’s trepidation. 

Finally, they see a shimmering blue light in the distance. 

“It’s reacting to you, Dean,” Cas says. 

“All right. Ready?” Benny asks Dean. 

Dean nods and pulls out his knife, and then performs the ritual that will let Benny ride him out of purgatory. When he’s done, his arm is bright red and throbbing. He winces. 

“Let’s go,” he urges.

They hurry towards the seam of light, their pace leaving no room for conversation. Dean is starting to pant when black smoke hits the ground in front of them. 

“Shit,” Dean curses as the leviathans materialize. 

He holds his blade in front of him before taking a swing. The leviathan ducks and meets his attack with an uppercut. He vaguely registers Cas thudding to the ground next to him. _It’d be really stupid if we were this close, and we died now_, Dean thinks and gets to his feet with renewed vigor. One of the leviathans has Cas in a chokehold, and all of its teeth are out. Dean can almost smell the rotting flesh that must be stuck in there. Dean takes the distraction and scurries behind it to decapitate it. Cas shoves a second leviathan onto the ground, so Dean can behead that one, too. 

“We’ve got to move! The portal’s closing!” Dean shouts and starts climbing towards the wavering light. He looks behind him to see Cas stumble. 

“Damn it, Cas, come on!” 

Dean reaches the portal and stretches a hand out to Cas. “Come on!” 

Cas reaches forward and clasps Dean’s hand in his. “I got you, hold on!” Dean yells. 

“Dean!” Cas’s grip on his hand loosens. Panicking, Dean tries to clutch at him more, but Cas stumbles down the incline the portal is on. 

“Cas!” he screams as the portal closes, taking him with it. 

Dean looks frantically around him in the dark. “Cas? Cas! Fuck!” he yells vehemently, stumbling around until he finds a stump to kick at. His foot connects with the bark and suddenly all of his energy leaves him. Dean drops to the ground and curls his arms around his knees. “Damn it, Cas,” he mutters, tears dripping down his nose onto the ground. He can’t help but think about all of Cas’s odd actions in the days before they made it to the portal, and how Cas had held him more tightly than he ever had that last night. “You son of a bitch,” Dean whispers as he wipes at his eyes. 

Dean goes through the motions, so he can make it to Benny’s grave and at least not let down one of the people he cares about. When Benny materializes, Dean comments, “Wow, that was fast.” 

“No thanks to you. What took so long?” Benny gripes. 

Dean rolls his eyes and tries not to think about Cas. “You’re welcome.” 

_And if you promised you’d love so completely_

_And you said you would always be true_

_You swore that you’d never leave me, baby_

_Whatever happened to you?_

He finds a payphone and tries to call Sam, cycling through his numbers until finally, blessedly, Sam picks up. He tells Sam to meet him at Rufus’s cabin. He’s not sure what to make of the tone of Sam’s voice as he delivers the news. There wasn’t even any dramatic hanging up and making Dean waste another quarter as Dean insisted it was really him. Just Sam’s easy acceptance. “Okay, I’ll see you in a couple of days,” Dean says and hangs up the phone. He wipes his hand off gingerly on his overshirt. He’s gone this long without croaking; it would be embarrassing if his downfall was a payphone. 

When they meet up, Dean gives Sam a hug after making sure it’s really him. 

“You were in Purgatory? For the whole year? What about Cas? Was he there?” Sam asks, rapid fire. 

Dean frowns and picks at a loose thread on his shirt. He stills feels raw whenever he thinks about Cas. He turns around, so Sam won’t be able to see the emotions flitting across his face. “Yeah, Cas didn’t make it,” he says, as neutrally as he can manage. 

“What does that mean?” Sam asks. The kid always was too inquisitive for his own damn good. 

“Something happened to him down there. Things got pretty hairy towards the end, and he—he just let go, Sammy,” Dean says softly. 

“So Cas is dead? You saw him die?” 

Dean grimaces at the announcement of the words that he had been trying to deny. “I saw enough,” he grunts. 

“So, what, you’re not sure?” 

“I said, I saw enough, Sam.” 

“Right. I’m sorry.” 

Dean sees Sam throwing him a pitying look, but he doesn’t want it. He also doesn’t want to brush Cas’s death aside when he is aching with Cas’s absence. “Me too. I can’t believe you’re actually here, Sammy,” he settles on, pulling two beers out of the refrigerator. 

They talk for a while until Sam says something that Dean can’t believe. “You quit?” he sputters. 

Sam shrugs like it’s not a big deal, but Dean begs to differ, especially after he hears Kevin’s messages. He’s also trying to process the fact that Sam didn’t even look for him while he was in Purgatory. Dean had drove Lisa half mad with all the lore books he had constantly laying around, trying to find a way to save Sam from hell. Dean shuts down that line of thinking quickly, though. He hates thinking about Ben and Lisa, and his life that had never been meant to be. With the latest developments with Cas, he wonders if he’s cursed. 

When he sees Cas out of the blue, he’s sure he’s losing it. He’s seeing things, and he’s going to have to get checked in somewhere. He checks around him for other cars, and seeing none, he slams Baby into reverse. He looks all around for Cas, but there’s no sign of the familiar trench coat Dean could have sworn he saw. He drags a hand over his face. He really needs to get some sleep. 

It happens again in the middle of a case. Sam is on a motel bed, asleep, while Dean is looking at his laptop. He looks up and sees Cas at the window. He slams his laptop shut and rushes over. Behind him, he hears Sam stirring. 

“Dean? What’s going on? Are you all right?” he asks groggily. 

“I don’t know. I just saw something,” he mumbles. He’s seen the looks Sam has been giving him since he got back from Purgatory, and he really doesn’t want to add any fuel to that fire.

“What did you see?” 

“Cas,” he says, still not believing it. 

“Cas? Where?” 

“Right there. And, earlier, on the road. I feel like I’m seeing him.” Dean admits, willing Sam not to mention anything about how he had seen Jess after her death, too. Dean can’t handle those kinds of comparisons right now and the truths that they would dredge up. 

“That’s not possible. You said it yourself. You made it out, and he didn’t, right?” 

“I tried so damn hard to get us the hell out of there,” Dean turns away from Sam. 

“I know you did,” Sam murmurs. 

Feeling a little more open with his back to Sam, Dean says, “You know, I could have pulled him out. I just don’t understand why he didn’t try harder.” 

“Dean,” Sam starts, his voice getting louder as he moves closer, “you did everything you could.” 

“So why do I feel like crap?” 

“Survivor’s guilt?” Sam suggests, “If you let it, this is going to keep messing with you. You have to walk past it.” 

Sam retreats to the bathroom, but Dean’s mind is still whirling. He thinks back to Cas telling Dean not to blame himself if he didn’t make it out. He sits down hard on the bed as that prompts thoughts of all the times they shared together in Purgatory. It seems crazy, but that had been the happiest Dean had been in recent memory. There were no gray moral dilemmas, no innocent people dying, just his blade in his hand and Benny and Cas by his side. 

The next day, Dean is listening to Sam talk about the case when he sees Cas for the third time. Dean is washing his face in the sink, and when he looks up, Cas is standing behind him in the mirror. He whirls around, already resigning himself to seeing nothing and being subjected to more of Sam’s probing questions, but Cas is there. Actually there. “Hello, Dean,” he says serenely. 

“What the hell, Cas?” Dean explodes, pushing him away. 

“Dean?” Sam calls. 

“You think you can just give up on me and then show back up here and say ‘Hello, Dean,’ like nothing’s changed?” Dean jabs Cas in the chest. 

“Dean, I—” Cas starts, but Dean interrupts, pulling him into a hug. 

“I thought you were dead, you stupid son of a bitch. Didn’t I tell you I couldn’t go through that again?” 

“I’m sorry,” he intones, but his arms don’t come up to return the hug, instead, stepping back as Sam rushes into the bathroom. 

“Cas?” Sam asks, his eyes darting between the two of them. 

“Don’t think I’m not still mad.”

“Of course, Dean.” 

“Have a seat.” Sam points Cas to a chair in their kitchenette. 

Sam and Cas sit down while Dean leans against the counter and glares. 

“Unbelievable, man, I can’t believe it. You’re actually here,” Sam says. 

“Yes. I’ve been trying to reach out, but for whatever reason, I wasn’t at full power, so I couldn’t connect with you.” 

“That must have been why you kept seeing him,” Sam suggests, turning to Dean. 

“Yeah. I have to be honest, Cas, I’m thinking how the hell did you make it out? I mean, I was there. I know that place. I know we had to scratch and claw and kill and bleed to find that portal and make it through it, and it almost finished me. So how exactly are you sitting here with us right now?” 

“Dean, that’s all completely true. And that’s the strange part. I have no idea. I remember endlessly running and hiding from leviathans, and then I was on the side of the road in Illinois.” 

Dean’s mind whirls. “And that was it?” 

“Yes.” Cas looks down at himself. “I’m dirty,” he says, like he’s just noticed.

Dean snorts. “Purgatory will do that to you.” 

Cas stands up and goes into the bathroom. Dean turns to Sam. 

“What the hell,” he says flatly, thinking of all the ways Cas seems _off_. 

“He just got back from purgatory, give the guy a break. How well adjusted were _you_ that first day?” Sam says. 

Dean thinks back on that and has to admit Sam has a point. 

“Dean?” 

“Huh?” he asks, shaking himself out of his thoughts. 

“You all right?” 

Dean takes the seat that Cas was in. “You do see something severely wrong here, right? I remember every second of leaving that place. I mean, I remember the heat, the stink, the pain, the fear. I have that whole ugly mess right up here, and he says he has no idea of how he got out? I’m just not buying it,” Dean says, his heart sinking as his traitorous brain brings up what happened the last time Cas was keeping secrets. 

“So, you think he’s lying?” 

“I’m saying something else happened. I saw the shape he was in. There was no way he was fighting his ass out of there alone. No way.” 

“All right. So, who, or what, got him out?” Sam asks, and isn’t that the million-dollar question. 

When Cas walks out of the bathroom, Dean shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Better?” Cas asks, spreading out his arms and giving Dean the same smile he had every night in purgatory when they would just stare at each other, holding on tightly. 

Dean weakly returns Cas’s smile, thinking of the way Cas didn’t even hug him back when they had been reunited. Dean has to get out of this room. “I’m going to go on a beer run,” he says, standing up abruptly. 

Cas's smile vanishes, but he doesn’t comment. 

Dean sits in Baby, running his hands over the leather as he thinks. Cas is making him wary with the way he’s been acting, but maybe Sam is right. Dean thinks back to pulling the gun on those kids in the woods who were camping when he first got out. That wasn’t _his_ finest hour, either. Maybe he should give Cas the benefit of the doubt, here. How many times did Cas save his ass in Purgatory, anyway? Mind made up, Dean feels substantially better as he pulls out of the motel parking lot to get the beer. 

When Dean returns, Sam is on his laptop, and Cas is staring at the tv screen. Dean and Sam start talking about their case and the list of missing people, and Cas casually completes the rest of the list . Dean and Sam stare at him. Cas looks over, as if feeling their eyes on him. “Well, they’re prophets,” he says dismissively. 

Cas is in the middle of explaining the prophet mumbo jumbo to them when Sam’s phone rings. “Mrs. Tran?” Sam listens and then pulls the phone away from his ear. “Crowley’s got Kevin.” 

They rush out to the Impala, and Dean pulls out of the motel lot, steering where Sam points him. Eventually, they make it to the highway that’s the meet up point, and Sam tells Dean to drive until he sees the mile marker where Mrs. Tran will be. After that, he leans his head against the window and shuts his eyes. Dean is grateful for the illusion of privacy this gives him. He looks at his rearview mirror and is unsurprised to see Cas doing his best to bore into the back of Dean’s head with his eyes. “What’s on your mind?” Dean asks, unwilling to be too direct with Sam sitting right there. 

Cas shrugs. “I have a lot to think about. About why I’m even here. I told you I didn’t know who got me out, and that was the truth. I suppose I’m lacking purpose now. The other angels still view me as an outcast after the civil war, and there’s nothing pressing that needs my immediate attention. In purgatory, it was all I could do to try to keep you safe, but here, monsters are scared of you. What’s my purpose, Dean?” he asks, finally lifting up his head to meet Dean’s eyes in the mirror. 

“Those are some pretty heavy questions, Cas. I wish I had the answers for you, man. But maybe, you could just stay with me for a while?” Dean says quietly. 

The ends of Cas’s mouth turn up, and if Dean heard Sam’s breathing falter from a regular sleeping pattern throughout their conversation, he doesn’t comment on it. 

The conversation makes Dean feel good for a few hours, but he continues to stew. All these good feelings he’s had with Cas’s return has been tainted by the persistent, niggling worry at the back of his brain. They finally come to the mile that marks where they’re supposed to meet Mrs. Tran. Dean eases Baby onto the side of the highway. Dean looks over at Sam, not pretending to sleep anymore. “Cas, can I talk to you outside?” Dean pretends not to see the way Sam’s eyebrows raise. 

Cas opens the back door and gets out. He turns to Dean expectantly. “What?” 

All of Dean’s worries come tumbling out. “Exactly. What? What the hell happened? Back there. Purgatory. I told you I would get you out. We were there! It was like you just gave up. It’s like you didn’t believe we could do it. I mean, you kept saying you didn’t think it would work. Did you not trust me?” 

“Dean—” 

“I did everything I could to get you out! Everything! I did not leave you.” Dean says furiously, the words coming out of his mouth warring with his ever-present self doubt. 

“So you think this was your fault?” Cas asks, his brows pinching together. 

Dean’s answer is cut off by the arrival of Mrs. Tran’s car, and he bites back his frustration. He shoots Cas a look. _We’re not done talking about this_.

Mrs. Tran explains the situation, and Sam cuffs her to her steering wheel to keep her from coming with them and getting hurt. “Oh, come on!” she complains. 

They drive to the warehouse where Crowley is holding Kevin. Dean stops himself from resuming their conversation in front of Sam, so there’s just terse silence instead. When they arrive at the warehouse, Dean wordlessly gets out of Baby and starts pulling items out of the trunk. He throws supplies at Sam, keeping some for himself. 

They make their way towards the warehouse, Dean brushing his shoulder against Cas’s, with Sam on his other side. Cas winds his fingers through Dean’s and squeezes briefly. Feeling as if a vice on his chest was released, Dean squeezes back, but Cas drops his hand and freezes. He points out the few demons strolling along the roof of the building. Dean and Sam nod, and they silently move towards the entrance. They open the door cautiously, wincing as it creaks. They move further into the building, Dean listening for any signs of movement near them. Dean motions them back, and a demon comes into view. Dean stabs it. Yellow light flickers at the base of its skull, and the body collapses to the ground. “All right, I’ll check that way,” Sam says, going in the direction the demon came from. 

Dean turns to Cas and rolls his eyes. “Looks like it’s you and me. Just like old times.” 

Cas opens his mouth, presumably to finish their conversation from earlier, but Dean cuts him off. “Let’s just worry about getting out of this alive before we fight about this, okay?” 

“Who says we’re going to have an argument?” 

Dean shoots him a look, and Cas purses his lips. 

They walk for what seems like way too long for Dean, his nose twitching as he picks up the scent of coppery blood. “We’re very near to Kevin,” Cas announces. 

Dean jumps a little at Cas’s voice after all the silence. Cas smirks at him, so Dean pokes him in the ribs. Cas doesn’t even have enough sympathy for Dean to wince, he just stares. His eyes widen, and Dean turns around to follow his line of sight. Dean brings up his knife to stab the demon behind him, but the demon waves his hand. Dean flies into the wall. He gets up, wincing, and sees Cas stumbling backwards before putting a hand on the demon’s forehead and smiting him. The demon collapses. Cas almost follows it, putting a hand against the wall to steady himself. “What the hell’s going on?” Dean demands, concern twisting uncomfortably in his gut, “You’re not all the way back, are you?” 

“It would appear that way,” Cas says, panting. 

Dean rushes over to lend Cas his support, and Cas leans heavily on him. Dean runs his hand down Cas’s arm and softly asks, “Are you okay?” 

Cas’s answering shrug does nothing to abate Dean’s worries. He can feel his concerns about Cas piling up, ready to spill out, but Dean keeps it locked down because the middle of a demon infested warehouse isn’t the right time to voice them. As they walk farther down the hall, Cas leans less and less on Dean. Eventually, they come to a locked door. Dean pulls out his lock pick kit and kneels down. He fumbles for a minute. “It’s not working.”

“Dean, I’m going in,” Cas says from behind him. 

“No, you’re not strong enough.” 

Dean walks over to Cas and grasps his hands, staring at Cas and willing him not to do it. He just got Cas back, and he doesn’t want to lose him again. Dean is sure Crowley hasn’t exactly forgiven Cas for the whole leviathan debacle, either. Cas gently pries Dean’s hands off of his and disappears with the sound of flapping wings. Dean curses. 

He turns back to the door, trying to get it open. After several minutes, he gives up with the lock pick and starts desperately ramming his shoulder into the door. He can feel bruises blossoming as blood vessels break in his shoulder, but he can also feel the wood of the door frame splintering. His arm is numb by the time he bursts into the room and sees Cas collapsed on the floor. He rushes over to him. “Damn it, Cas. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he mumbles as he tries to sit up. 

Dean pushes him back down. “Just take a second,” Dean says, not as softly as he would have liked. “Where’s Crowley?” 

“He left. He has half the tablet,” Cas says urgently. 

“It’s okay. That’s fine. Let’s just focus on you for a minute, okay?” 

Cas finally relaxes back and lets Dean fuss over him. Kevin shoots them suspicious looks until Dean leaves Cas and walks over to Kevin, who’s holding the other half of the tablet. “You good, Kev? What the hell were you guys doing with a witch, anyway?” 

Dean is banging things around in Baby’s trunk when he turns to Cas. “That was a bonehead move back there. You could have gotten yourself killed. Why didn’t you wait for me?” 

“Well, I didn’t get killed. And it worked,” Cas returns dryly. 

“And if it didn’t?” 

“It would have been my problem.” 

“Well, that’s not the way I see it,” Dean says, mind flashing to all the times he’s been devastated because of Cas’s disregard for himself. 

“Everything isn’t your responsibility. Getting me out of purgatory wasn’t your responsibility.” 

“You didn’t get out. So, whose fault was it?”

“It’s not about fault. It’s about will. Dean, do you really not remember?”

Dean laughs without mirth. “I lived it, Cas, okay? I know what happened.” 

“No. No, you think you know. You remembered it the way you needed to.” Cas tilts his head like he’s coming to a realization. 

“Look, I don’t need to feel like hell for failing you, okay? For failing you like I’ve failed every other godforsaken thing that I care about! I don’t need it!” Dean can feel himself toeing the edge of hysteria, but he can’t help it. 

“Dean, just look at it. Really look at it,” Cas says as he brings his hand to Dean’s forehead. 

Suddenly, Dean is back in purgatory. He can feel the energy of the blue portal reaching out to him as he clings to Cas. 

“Hold on!” he calls. 

“Dean! Go!” Cas wrenches his hand out of Dean’s. 

“Cas!” Dean screams.

Dean opens his eyes to see Cas right in front of him. Dean sucks in a breath, some of the panic he felt from being back in purgatory dissipating with the sight of Cas. 

“See, it wasn’t that I was weak. I was stronger than you. I pulled away. Nothing you could have done would have saved me, because I didn’t want to be saved,” Cas says. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” Dean demands, but the image of Cas tilting his head and saying, “You don’t think you deserve to be saved,” flashes through his head, and he thinks he might understand. 

“It’s where I belonged. I needed to do penance. After the things I did on earth and in heaven, I didn’t deserve to be out. And I saw that clearly when I was there,” Cas hesitates, “I planned to stay all along. I just didn’t know how to tell you. You can’t save everyone, my friend, though you try.” 

Dean is trying to think of a response for that when Sam walks up to them. 

“Hey,” he says, glancing between Dean and Cas, “Everything okay?” 

Dean opens his mouth to say that _no, it’s not okay, how did I not notice Cas was feeling that way? We were only together all day and night,_ But Cas beats him to it with, “Yes. Just setting a few things straight.” 

“Good. Garth is going to lay low with the Trans while we track down the other piece. You’re with us on this one, right?” Sam asks, but no response comes, “Cas, you okay?” 

Cas gives them a blank look. “I’m fine. And yes, I’m with you, if that’s all right,” he says. 

Dean nods, unease shooting through him as Cas walks away. “It is, right? You two are good?” Sam asks. 

Dean avoids eye contact as he tells Sam, “Yes.” 

He walks after Cas. “You sure you’re okay? You seem a little shaken up.” 

“I’m fine, Dean,” Cas answers, eyes downcast. 

Dean reaches out and takes Cas’s hand. “You don’t have to be alright, Cas. I know I wasn’t when I first got out.” 

Cas finally meets Dean’s eyes. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

Dean glances back at Sam, who is waiting by Baby with his eyes studiously not wavering from his phone. Dean knows he should tell Sam about this _thing_ between him and Cas at some point, but he still doesn’t even know what it is. Regardless, he leans forward and brushes his lips against Cas’s cheek. “I forgive you,” he whispers. 

Cas comes along with them, and even finds a case. If Dean’s heart jumps at the idea of Cas in the passenger seat of Baby, that’s only for him to know. 

After investigating around, they go back to their motel room. Dean reads some lore for a while before standing up. “All right, well, I’m going to call it. Cas, you going to book a room or what?” 

Cas tilts his head, and Dean silently hopes he won’t mention all the nights they spent pressed together in Purgatory. “No, I’ll stay here.” 

“Oh, okay. We’ll have a slumber party, braid Sam’s hair. Where are you going to sleep?” 

“I don’t sleep.”

“Well, I need my four hours.” 

“I’ll watch over you,” Cas says, a little too eagerly, in Dean’s humble opinion. 

“That’s not going to happen,” Dean replies, but Cas is busy putting a hand to his forehead in deep concentration. 

“Something’s coming across the police band,” he says, and the topic is mercifully switched from the sleeping situation as they prepare to go to the bank that was just robbed. 

Later that night, Dean and Cas are back at the motel. Cas digs through Dean’s bag, looking for something. Dean doesn’t comment when Cas pulls out his dad’s journal. Their conversation from the night before is still weighing heavily on Dean’s mind. Cas interrupts his train of thought when he says, “Your father had beautiful hand writing.” 

“How you feeling, Cas?” Dean asks, not satisfied with yesterday’s conversation. 

Dean knows he shouldn’t have expected anything less when Cas replies, “I’m fine.” 

“Well, I just know that when I got puked out of purgatory, it took me a few weeks to find my sea legs,” Dean says, a call back to their conversation from earlier. 

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re back. I’m freaking thrilled,” Dean hastily adds. “It’s just, this whole mysterious resurrection thing, it always has one mother of a downside.” 

Dean can feel Cas’s glare, and he supposes that’s fair. Cas mysteriously resurrected _him_ from Hell, after all. “So, what do you want me to do?” 

“Maybe take a trip upstairs,” Dean suggests. 

“To Heaven?” 

“Yeah, poke around, see if the God squad can’t tell us how you got out.” 

“No,” Cas says flatly. 

“Look man, I hate those flying ass monkeys just as much as you do, but—” 

“Dean! I said no!” Cas shouts. 

Dean raises his eyebrows. The last time Cas yelled at him was probably when he was about to say yes to Michael. Dean closes his laptop and walks over to other bed, sitting down. “Talk to me.” 

“Dean, when I was, bad,” Cas says, picking his words carefully, “and I had all those things, the leviathans, writhing inside me, I caused a lot of suffering on earth, but I devastated heaven. I vaporized thousands of my own kind, and I can’t go back.” 

“Because if you do, the angels will kill you,” Dean supplies. 

“Because if I see what heaven’s become, what I made of it,” Cas sighs, “I’m afraid I might kill myself.” 

Dean stares at Cas in shock. He is debating his response and is seriously considering doing something that will distract both of them, because how the hell does he respond to that, when Sam walks in. “Hey. I got something,” he says. 

“Good. Excellent. What?” Cas says, standing up. 

Worry presses in on Dean from every side. 

Sam is frustratingly present throughout their case, and Dean never finds a good time to confront Cas about what he had said. When their case is solved, Dean says, “All right, well, let’s blow this termite terrace. Cas, you get to ride shotgun. You done good.” 

“Thanks, but I can’t come, I...” Cas trails off. 

Dean feels his heart drop. He guesses he knew Cas wouldn’t want to tag along forever, but he was hoping he might have stayed a bit longer, especially while Dean is still overflowing with concern for Cas. 

“You what, Cas? Why can’t you come with us?” Sam asks. 

“I want to stay with Mr. Jones. Someone should watch over him for a few days just to be safe.” 

“Okay, and then what?” Dean prompts. 

“I’m not sure. But I know I can’t run anymore.” 

Dean blinks. Cas just told him he didn’t think he could bear to see Heaven, but now he wants to stop running? Dean purses his lips, ignores his persistent worries, and turns to leave. 

“Sam, you with me?” He doesn’t know what he’d do if the answer was no. 

_Cas? You listening? Look, I get that you want to make things right, but just_—_take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me lose you. And maybe it wouldn’t kill you to give me a phone call every now and then?_

_It’s been a few days. You know I’m a worrier, man. Let me know you’re okay._

_Hey, you aren’t even answering your phone. I’ll kill you if you went and died on me._

_Cas… I hope this time away has been good for you, that you cleared your head. You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to, but just know I’m here for you, if you, uh, ever start feeling like you were before again…_ Dean rests his head heavily on his hands and sighs, _I miss you._

There is the same frustrating silence until, finally, Cas reappears. Unfortunately, it’s only because he needs help. Cas says that some angel has been taken, and he needs Dean’s help to get him back, from Crowley, no less. Dean definitely doesn’t want Cas facing down Crowley by himself, so he agrees, even if an unsettled feeling sits in his stomach. Dean’s mouth turns down even more when Cas says, “I heard his distress call this morning.” 

“On what, angel radio? I thought you shut that down.” 

“My penance has been going well, and I thought it was time to turn it back on. I’ve been helping people, Dean.” 

Of course, Cas has to continue to blunder on and ask where Sam is. Dean doesn’t want to rehash the distressed text he sent to Sam from Amelia, the girl he was shacking up with while they were in purgatory, so he tells Cas, “Sam’s gone. It’s all right. We’ll find Alfie ourselves.” 

Cas seems doubtful but doesn’t press the issue. 

Dean doesn’t bring up the fact that if Cas turned on angel radio, he heard all of Dean’s prayers. 

They pose as reporters to interview a man who saw and heard a burning bush, trying to get out of him exactly what the bush had told him. When they leave the room, Dean turns to Cas. “Mean anything to you?” 

“Yes. It’s Enochian. It means obey.” 

Dean frowns thoughtfully. “Obey? Obey what?” 

“I don’t know. But the amount of pain an angel must be in not just to manifest through shrubbery, but to burn,” Cas looks at him pleadingly, “Dean, we have to find him before it’s too late.” 

They drive around looking for places Crowley might have set up shop and pull into a gravel drive. “Wow, will you look at that? Our ninth abandoned factory. Ain’t that America? Hey, what do you say, this doesn’t pan out, we head back to that beer and bacon happy hour a mile back?” Dean looks over at Cas hopefully. He’s aching for time to spend with Cas when he’s not preoccupied with the case. What was Cas doing all that time he was gone? 

“Wait a minute, Dean. Those derelicts, they’re demons. I can see their true faces,” Cas says urgently, interrupting his train of thought. 

Cas pushes Dean to get Sam’s help. 

“Look if Sam wanted in, he’d be here, okay? I got a better idea. Let’s go get Kevin’s demon bombs.” 

On the drive to Garth’s house boat where Kevin is staying, Dean finally gathers up his courage. “So what have you been doing, Cas? You heard all my prayers and just ignored them all?” Dean asks lightly, hoping his voice doesn’t betray how hurt he feels. 

“Dean—”

“Nah, I get it,” Dean cuts him off, “You needed time away from the mud monkeys, right?” 

Cas scowls. “You know I’ve never thought of humans like that.” 

“I guess I’m just feeling a little hurt, Cas. Look, I haven’t brought it up, but what happened in purgatory, it meant something to me, and now you can’t even let me know you’re okay? What the hell?” 

“Dean,” Cas says and hesitates. His eyes fix on a spot over Dean’s shoulder, and then he says, “Purgatory brought out my… baser instincts. Continuing that, now that we’re back, is not something I want to do. Let’s just keep things simple.” 

Dean’s stomach drops. He looks determinedly at the asphalt in front of him. “Okay, Cas. Whatever you want,” Dean murmurs, trying to hold back any wavers in his voice. 

Dean keeps quiet for the rest of the drive, and Cas looks out the window, seemingly oblivious to any tension in the air. Dean uses the time to school his face. 

They find Kevin, and Cas flaps off with the list of ingredients he provides for the bomb. Dean is in the middle of seeing what it will take to get Kevin to look up from his translating when his phone rings. Dean sees Benny’s name and takes the call. 

“As soon as I’m done with this case, I’ll be there,” he promises Benny. 

It’s not like he has anything better to be doing, now that Sam and Cas have kicked him to the curb. To Dean’s dismay, when Cas comes back, it’s with the ingredients _and_ Sam. Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. Issues with Cas, Sam, and Benny is too much for him to deal with. 

“I told you we didn’t need him,” Dean sighs.

“We need everything, Dean. And I need both of you, as you say, to stow your crap. Can you do that?” 

Dean heaves a dramatic sigh. “What’s up, Sammy?” 

Sam brushes past him to go talk to Kevin, and Dean watches him go.

They fight their way through the warehouse until they can hear Alfie’s screams. Dean breaks the last of the warding spells that were keeping Cas out and mutters, “Anytime now, Cas.” 

Cas appears, but he doesn’t look so hot. “It must be the sigils. I’m not at full power,” he says. 

Dean turns to look for more of them to deface, but Cas interrupts him. “No, wait! There’s no time. Samandriel won’t last much longer.” 

Dean goes to the door and jiggles the handle, but it’s locked. He pulls out his lockpick and tries to jimmy the lock, but his hands won’t stop shaking. “Dean,” he hears Sam say from behind him. 

He looks back and sees Cas sinking to the floor with his hands over his head. _Well, that’s not good_, he thinks. “All right. Plan B,” he says, and rams his shoulder into the door. 

Sam joins him, and eventually the door gives way to their combined efforts. They burst through the door, and Cas joins them, stumbling over to where Alfie is strapped into a chair with blood drying in his hairline and all over his clothes. Dean winces but directs his attention back to the more immediate threats. Dean is poised over the demon who was interrogating Alfie when he reaches both of his hands up to Dean’s throat. Dean can see black spots at the edge of his vision, but he manages to break the hold. He punches the demon, his face making a satisfying crunch. “Wait! I know things!” he bargains. 

“Cas! Go!” Dean calls over his shoulder, not wanting to take any chances of Crowley making an appearance. 

“Good, good, there’s so much you don’t know. You need me,” he says. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I don’t think so.” Dean thrusts his blade into the demon’s chest. 

Dean stands up and wipes the blood from the knife on the demon’s pants. 

“Gross, Dean.” Sam wrinkles his nose. 

“Yeah, yeah. You good?” 

They walk through the maze of the warehouse until finally they see a door with an exit sign above it, its red light flickering. 

When Dean pushes open the door and sees Cas cradling a limp body, he breaks into a run. Sam reaches Cas first. “Cas! What the hell happened?” he demands. 

“He was compromised. He came at me. I killed him in self-defense,” Cas says stiltedly. 

“Cas, you okay?” Dean asks, reaching out a hand to Cas, but quickly yanks it back, their conversation from earlier replaying in his head. 

Dean watches in horror as blood drips down from the corner of Cas’s eye. Dean tracks the movement as Cas reaches up to wipe at it. “My vessel must have been damaged in the melee. I have to go. Samandriel’s remains belong in heaven.” 

Cas brings Alfie’s arm around his shoulders. Dean steps forward, “Cas, wait.” 

“Thank you both for everything you’ve done,” Cas says formally and disappears. 

“Cas!” Dean shouts into the empty night. 

Sam and Dean share a meaningful look. Dean jerks his head in the direction of Baby, and he and Sam pile in. They drive to Rufus’s cabin in silence, and for once, Sam seems to be on the same page as him. When they arrive, they put up Enochian wardings. 

“Okay. That should do it. Cas can’t see or hear us now,” Sam announces as he caps his spray paint. 

“What the hell?” Dean asks as all of Cas’s erratic behaviors flash through his mind. 

“I know.”

“I told you something was off with him since he got back from Purgatory.” 

“So, what, you think someone’s messing with him or something?” 

“Who?” Dean asks. 

“Angels?” 

“Why would the angels have him kill another angel?” Dean pulls at his hair in frustration. 

Sam shrugs, and Dean straightens up. He tells Sam to go back to Amelia, but surprisingly, Sam doesn’t jump at the opportunity. 

“I’m going to take a walk, clear my head.” Sam grabs his coat and walks out of the cabin. 

Dean sits down hard on the couch. When Cas had got back from purgatory, he had fleetingly thought everything was going to be okay again. _Stupid, that’s what that was. _Dean pulls out his phone and thumbs to Benny’s number. He tells Benny he won’t be able to help him out again, and although it hurts, Dean knows he needs to be giving all of his focus to Sam and helping Cas out of whatever situation he’s found himself in again. 

Dean buries himself in cases. He prays to Cas every night, but there’s never a response. Whatever, it’s not like he ever thought there was going to be one, anyway. 

Some of the tension in Dean’s gut unwinds when they stumble into Charlie during a case. Sam goes gallivanting off to do some research which gives Charlie an opening to probe him about what they’ve been up to. 

“You sent Sam a phantom text from his ex? Dick move, sir.” Charlie shakes her head disapprovingly. 

“Yeah, not my finest hour,” Dean admits. 

“So he found some normalcy with this chick, and now it’s gone. Again. Thanks to you.” 

“Yeah, well, now he’s more committed than ever, so there’s that. But, trust me, this life, you can’t afford attachments. You just got to let go,” Dean says bitterly. He wishes he could follow that advice as easily as Cas apparently can. 

“Are we still talking about Sam, or did you break up with someone, too?” Charlie asks, hitting a little too close to home for Dean’s liking. 

“Me?” 

“Yeah,” she says expectantly. 

Dean looks to the side, biting the inside of his cheek. If there’s anyone he can talk to about this, it would be Charlie. “No,” he lies. 

He meets his grandfather and beheads a knight of hell, and he wishes he could tell Cas about it. He wonders if Cas has ever had any run ins with the Men of Letters. When he finds out about the water pressure in the bunker, he wishes he could share that, too. 

Dean’s in the middle of a case about necromancers when someone catches his eye for the first time since Cas flapped off. He’s interviewing two girls when he looks up to find a dark haired guy that he’s seen a couple other times today staring at him. He gives Dean a half wave and looks down. Dean kicks himself for the blush he can feel spreading across his face. Dean finishes interviewing the girls and walks over to the man sitting by himself. He takes out his badge. “Special Agent Bolan,” he says. 

The man laughs nervously. “Oh, really? I thought you were like, a head hunter or something.” 

“This is the second, maybe third time I’m seeing you today? Why you following me, Gingerbread?” Dean asks sternly. 

“So we didn’t have a thing back there?” 

Dean feels blood rush to his face. “Back where? What?” 

“I’m sorry, man. I thought we had a thing back there. You know, a little magic eye moment, and I saw you here, and I figured I’d wait until you were done with your meeting and then maybe we might, uh,” the man trails off. 

Dean uses a finger to close his badge and slide it back towards himself. “Uh, okay, but no, no moment. This is a, uh, federal investigation,” he mumbles. 

“Is that supposed to make you less interesting? I mean, um, sorry. I hope I didn’t freak you out or anything.” 

“No, nope, not freaked out. It’s just a, you know, federal thing. It’s, uh, okay,” his phone mercifully rings, “Citizen, as you were.” 

Dean tries to power walk away before he embarrasses himself even more, but the man calls out after him, “You have a good night, Agent.” 

“You,” Dean turns around to look at the man, but bumps into a table. Dean hears the sound of teetering glassware, “have, a, okay.” Dean hurries out of the pub. 

Outside, he leans against the wall and curses himself. _Mr. Smooth_, he thinks sarcastically. Besides, Sam is with him, anyway, so what exactly did he think he was doing? 

Kevin calls them, saying he has a break through with the tablets, and they can close the gates of hell. He says the first trial is translated, and it’s to bathe in the blood of a hellhound. Dean’s heart rate might spike at the thought of getting up close and personal with a hellhound, but there’s no way he’s letting Sam do this. 

Of course, things do not go as planned. They find a potential demon deal and pose as ranch hands. Dean is feeling the time crunch when the women who hired them walks up to him. “Ellie, hey,” he greets. 

“Hey,” she walks up to him and runs her hand down his chest, “I think you’re really hot. You want to go to my room and have sex?” 

“What?” Dean asks in confusion. 

“Sorry, I don’t normally do this.” 

“I can’t,” Dean says, Cas’s face flashing through his head. He curses himself. Cas made it perfectly clear he didn’t want Dean like that, so why is he still hung up on him? 

“What? Okay. Embarrassing.”

“Oh, no. I want to,” Dean says, trying to convince himself that if he didn’t have people to save, he’d totally take her up on her offer, “Believe me.” 

Ellie frowns. “No, it’s okay, you don’t.” 

She walks away leaving Dean to wonder what the hell that was about. 

He gathers everyone in the house that might have made a deal and spreads goofer dust by the doors and windows. Sam tells Dean he’s coming with him to the hunt the hell hound. “I need you to be safe, Sam, okay? That’s what I need,” Dean says definitively. 

Sam, unsurprisingly, doesn’t think the matter is closed. “What? When am I—when are we ever safe?” 

“This is different,” Dean insists. 

“How?”

“Because of the three trials crap. God’s little obstacle course. We’ve been down roads like this before, man, with Yellow Eyes, Lucifer, Dick freakin’ Roman. We both know where this ends. One of us dies, or worse.” 

“So, what, you just up and decided it was going to be you?” Sam asks in frustration. 

“I’m a grunt, Sam. You’re not. You’ve always been the brains of this operation.” 

Sam tries to cut him off, but Dean plows through what he needs to say. “And you told me yourself that you see a way out. You see a light at the end of this ugly-ass tunnel. I don't. But I tell you what I do know, it's that I'm gonna die with a gun in my hand because that's what I have waiting for me. That's all I have waiting for me! I want you to get out. I want you to have a life, become a Man of Letters, whatever. You, with a wife and kids and, and, and grandkids, living till you're fat and bald and chugging Viagra, that is my perfect ending, and it's the only one that I'm gonna get. So I'm gonna do these trials. I'm gonna do them alone. End of story. You're staying here. I'm going out there. If a land shark comes knocking, you call me. If you try to follow me, I'm gonna put a bullet in your damn leg.” 

Dean storms away, but things are never that easy. He goes after the hellhound, and the damn thing gets its claws into Dean’s side. Dean falls to the ground. He can feel the hot breath on his face when there’s a loud gunshot. Dean turns to the sound and curses when he sees Sam. Sam runs towards Dean’s dropped knife, scooping it up and turning towards the hellhound. The hellhound abandons Dean and rushes towards Sam, knocking him on his back. Dean sits up hurriedly and sees spots. He’s scrambling to his feet when Sam slits the thing’s belly open, black blood pouring onto him and soaking his shirt. 

“Damn it, Sam,” Dean groans, his head thumping back on the floor. 

Sam eventually convinces Dean to let him do the trials, saying that they’re both going to live to see this through. Dean sighs, and against his better judgment, he gives the paper with the incantation on it to Sam. Sam recites it and gasps, falling to his knees in pain. Dean panics. “Sammy?” 

The veins in Sam’s arm light up with a blinding white light. “You okay?” Dean asks as Sam struggles to stand up. 

“I’m good. I can do this,” he says, but it does nothing to abate Dean’s worries. 

Dean swears he’s going to get an ulcer. Cas won’t answer any form of communication Dean sends him, and Dean knows Sam is going to underplay how the trials are affecting him. Sam already admitted to Dean that he might have overstated his confidence on getting out of the trials alive, and Dean knows he’ll lose it if Sam dies. He is hanging on by a fraying thread as is. There’s no one Dean can turn to. 

He sits on his bed in the bunker and looks up. He closes his eyes and prays to Cas one final time. “Cas, you got your ears on? Listen, you know I am not one for praying, 'cause in my book it's the same as begging, but this is about Sam, so I need you to hear me. We are going into this deal blind, and I don't know what's ahead or what it's gonna bring for Sam. Now, he's covering pretty good, but I know that he is hurting, and this one was supposed to be on me. So, for all that we've been through, I'm asking you... keep a lookout for my little brother, okay?” Dean opens his eyes and shakes his head. “Where the hell are you, man?” 

_Now I will stand in the rain on the corner_

_I watch the people go shuffling downtown_

_Another ten minutes, no longer_

_And then I’m turning around_

Dean’s worry spikes after weeks of radio silence from Cas and then, on top of that, he finds bloody tissues in the trash can. “Damn it, Sammy.”

They’re in the middle of a case when Cas reappears to save their asses. They had been questioning one of the victim’s neighbors, Wendy, when there was a knock at the door. Wendy opened the door and was met with black eyes staring back at her. She screamed, and Dean whipped out his knife, but the smoke billowed out of one of the demons’ mouths and into Wendy’s. Dean was contemplating how he was going to handle this, because he really didn’t want to stab this woman he had spent the past half hour talking to, when Cas appeared, smiting the demon that had been grappling with Sam and grabbing the demon possessing Wendy by the hair. “Long time, no see, Cas,” Dean says weakly. 

“Indeed,” Cas replies, which maybe infuriates Dean a little bit. 

Dean sees Sam holding his shoulder and wincing, so Dean pushes past Cas into the kitchen to look for some ice. Cas follows him in with the demon and shoves it in a chair so he can start drawing a devil’s trap. Dean might be concerned by just leaving a demon around unbound, but it seems suitably cowed by Cas. Dean takes his sweet time in the kitchen, pulling down a cup and filling it up with water. Wendy wouldn’t care, right? They just saved her life. He rummages through the freezer and finds an ice pack. He runs a hand down his face and sighs. 

“Put this on your shoulder,” Dean says to Sam as he comes back into the living room. 

“I’m fine,” Sam whines.

Dean ignores him and sits down carefully on the couch next to Sam, resisting the urge to bury his face in his hands when Cas walks into the room. “The other demons escaped. I bound the one I caught in a devil’s trap. I’m going to interrogate it now,” Cas says in the flat voice that eerily reminds Dean of that night with Alfie. 

“Wait a second, Cas,” Sam speaks up, “How about you answer some questions first? Like, where the hell have you been?” 

“You heard me, didn’t you?” Dean asks, even though he knows it was only ever wishful thinking that Cas hadn’t been getting his messages, instead of actively ignoring him. 

“You prayed to him?” Sam asks incredulously. 

“Yes. I heard you, but that’s not why I’m here. I’ve been hunting demons.”

“So this is you. Why?” Sam presses, referring to all of the deaths that brought them here. 

“I’ve been searching for the other half of the demon tablet.” 

“Without us?” Dean asks, feeling a little hurt against his will. 

“I’ve been trying to help, Dean, and in my search, I uncovered that Crowley has sent out demons to find Lucifer’s crypts.” 

“What the hell are they all looking for?” 

“They’re looking for a parchment that would allow them to decipher Crowley’s half of the demon tablet without a prophet,” Cas explains.

Dean squints at this proclamation, but says, “A demonic decoder ring? In Crowley’s hands? Awesome.” 

Cas goes on to tell them that Crowley has been sending his demons to possess locals who might have had knowledge about where the crypts could possibly be. 

“How did they know where to start looking in the first place?” Sam wonders. 

“I don’t know. I’m hoping the strange haired demon in the kitchen is more knowledgeable than the other I interrogated,” Cas says and leaves the room. 

Dean’s lips twitch in a valiant effort to be amused by Cas’s thoughts on Wendy’s curlers, but there’s not a whole lot else funny about this situation. He turns to Sam. “Well, he puts the ass in Cas, huh?” 

“He’s definitely off,” Sam answers. 

Dean is uneasily reminded of Cas when he was playing God when he calls from out of the room, “You know, I can hear you both. I am a celestial being.” 

Dean’s stomach churns, but he goes into the kitchen with Cas, Sam trailing behind. The demon is already bloodied, and Dean can see a few stab wounds. He winces in sympathy for Wendy, but he knows the ends justify the means. “Sam and Dean Winchester,” the demon sneers, “Oh, the thoughts she had about you two. Mostly you, Sam. What can I say? She has a thing for mutton chops.” 

“All right, you douchebag, listen,” Dean starts, in the fiercest voice he can muster, when Cas plunges his blade into the demon’s hand. 

She screams, and flickers of light run up and down her arm. 

“Who told you about the crypts?” Cas demands. 

“I thought angels were supposed to be good cops,” the demon snarks, and Cas rams his blade into her other hand. 

“Wait, stop! Stop!” she pleads, “We have a hostage! It’s one of Crowley’s pets. She knows the town where all the crypts are buried.” 

“And she told you about the parchment?” Sam asks. 

“What parchment?” the demon asks. She must be a good actor because she’s almost looking genuinely puzzled. 

Dean waves a hand in her face, “Hey. Hey! You think he’s the only bad cop in this room? Stop lying! We know what you’re looking for!” 

“No. I’m telling you, we’re looking for—” 

Dean leans forward so he can catch the demon’s words, but Cas stabs the demon right in the chest. Her head slumps, and Dean feels a bit of mourning for Wendy. That’s quickly refocused when Sam demands, “Cas! What the hell was that?” 

“It told us what we needed,” Cas shrugs. 

“No, she didn’t! You can’t just— “ 

“I started this hunt without you because I didn’t want anything to slow me down. We have to get to the motel now,” Cas says coldly. 

“Hold on a second,” Sam says, but there is a flap of wings, and Cas is gone. 

“Cas! Cas? Damn it,” Dean swears, “Go, go, go!” 

Dean rushes with Sam out to Baby. They jump in, and Dean tries to jam the key into the ignition. He misses twice, and he sees Sam eyeing his shaking hands with concern. 

“I’m fine,” Dean snaps. 

Sam holds his hands up placatingly. “You said you prayed to him? Dean—” 

“I really am not in the mood to hash this out right now, Sam.” 

“Fine. I’ll wait.” Sam crosses his arms and leans against the window. 

When they get to the motel, they see a bright light coming from one of the windows. 

“There! There!” Sam points. They race to the building and dash up the stairs. Dean hears a scream, and they fling the door open. Cas stands there looking at them blankly. 

“Thanks for waiting,” Sam says dryly. 

“The hostage is in there,” Cas answers. 

Dean is shocked when he sees Meg. In hindsight, it seems likely that Crowley would have taken her prisoner, but at the time, he had really thought the hell hounds would have tore her apart. 

After everyone gets over their mutual disbelief at seeing each other alive again, Meg says she knows where the crypts are. She hadn’t told Crowley’s demons exactly where the crypts were, just their general vicinity to buy herself some time. 

“So, what have they found?” Cas asks. 

“Bupkis. Every crypt’s been one Al Capone’s vault after another. And on top of that, someone kept picking up the trail and icing demons. I’m guessing that was you, Castiel, but Crowley just keeps sending more. He’s hell bent on finding the angel tablet.” 

“Wait a second. Did you just say ‘angel tablet?’” Sam asks incredulously. 

“Well, this is news to me, as well. The demons I interrogated must have been lying about their true intentions,” Cas says. 

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Really? I saw you zero dark thirty that demon. You were more than persuasive.” 

Dean is really trying his best to give Cas the benefit of the doubt, but Cas is making it hard. Dean can’t help but think something deeply fishy is going on. Meg interrupts his train of thought. “You’re both missing the point. I lied to them which means they’re digging in the wrong place, but not for long. They’ll be back here soon. So, who’s up for fleeing?” 

“She’s right. We need to find those crypts before they do. Meg, you’re the only one who’s been there.” 

Meg sets up a map of the village, and some time later, she calls them back to look at it. “What’s there now?” Sam asks, pointing to one of the swaths of empty space. 

“Do I look like Google to you? None of these buildings were here way back in the day. Figure it out, genius. Is there any booze in this dump?” Meg storms off, and Cas follows her. 

Dean bites back any jealousy and slumps onto the couch. Sam opens up his laptop. 

“He lied to us,” Dean says. Maybe Sam can help him work this out. 

“Yeah, maybe. I can kind of understand why, though. I mean, an angel tablet? If the demon tablet can shut the gates of hell, what can the angel tablet do?” 

“I don’t know, Sam. I just don’t like this. Nothing feels right.” 

Sam shrugs. “I don’t know what you’re looking for me to say. If nothing about this feels right, maybe you shouldn’t have been praying to him. Just a thought.” 

Dean buries his head in the arm of the couch. His head spins. 

Sam looks up from his laptop. “All right. According to this, the crypt has to be below an abandoned building.” 

“Good times. You really think we can trust Megstiel?” 

“No, but what choice do we have?” 

“I just have a bad feeling about all of this,” Dean says, digging his thumbs into his temples. 

Dean gets to his feet and walks up the steps with Sam following him. 

Dean stops at the door to hear Meg’s voice wafting through. “I miss the simplicity. I was bad. You were good. Life was easier. Now it’s all so messy. I’m kind of good which sucks. You’re kind of bad which is actually all manners of hot. We survive this, I’m going to order some pizza, and we’re going to move some furniture around. You understand?” 

Cas answers, “No, I—wait. Actually, yes.” 

Well, Dean’s heard enough of that. He barges through the door. “All right. Let’s roll, campers.” 

They set off, Dean keeping a deliberate silence towards Cas. He knows if he says anything, the floodgates will open. That’s not a conversation he’s ever looking forward to having, much less in front of Meg and Sam. 

Dean sidelines Sam when they make it to the crypt. “Sam, I saw your bloody rag in the trash can, okay?” 

“That wasn’t—” Sam tries to protest. 

“Stop. Just stop. We don’t know what’s in there, okay?” 

“I’m fine.” 

“No, you’re not. You haven’t been fine since the first trial. That’s why I called Cas,” Dean admits. 

“Trial?” Meg asks, intrigued. 

“Shut up, Meg,” Sam and Dean say in unison. 

“Dean, I’m telling you, I’m okay.”

“Sam, you’re damaged in ways that even I can’t heal. Dean’s right. You should stay here and protect Meg,” Cas speaks up, and Sam reluctantly agrees.

Dean and Cas descend into the crypt, and Dean relaxes minutely. He might not know what’s going on with Cas, but at least no one can hear him stumbling over himself to figure it out anymore. 

He lets them get a little deeper before he asks, “Hey, what did you mean back there about Sam?” 

“It’s difficult to say. It’s something on the subatomic level and his electromagnetic field—” Cas starts. 

Dean rolls his eyes fondly before remembering himself and hardening his face. “Okay, bottom line it for me, Bill Nye. Is it lethal?” 

“I don’t know,” Cas says impatiently, before sticking an arm out. “Wait. There’s a draft.” He waves his hand in front of the wall. “There’s something behind there. Stand back.” 

Cas’s hand starts glowing, and Dean looks away. The wall creaks and then crumbles. Dean pokes at the debris to get through to the other side of the wall, shoving at the wreckage to clear a hole for them. Dean steps through with Cas on his heels. Dean sweeps his flashlight through the room, noting the cobwebs in every corner. “Dean, that’s it,” Cas says, pointing to a shelf mounted along the wall. 

Dean aims his flashlight towards a wooden chest. “How do you know?” 

“It’s the only thing in here warded against angels.”

Dean walks forward and runs his fingers along the top of the chest. It’s smooth; Dean can’t even feel any of the grains of the wood. He picks it up and moves it to a table. He pulls a knife out of his jacket. When pries open the lid, it falls to the table with a resounding clang. He reaches in and picks up the stone. 

“Winner, winner, chicken dinner,” Dean says triumphantly. 

“Good. Hand it to me, and I’ll take it to heaven.”

Alarm bells start ringing in Dean’s head. “No, we’ll take it to Kevin, so he can translate it.” 

“Right. Of course. I’ll take it to him right away. No time to waste.”

“Well, he’s not that far. I’ve been meaning to go check on him, bring him some supplies,” Dean says, thinking quickly. 

“I can resupply the prophet, Dean.”

“You know, uh, why don’t Sam and I take it over to him, and you can get back to your mission? Finding the other half of the demon tablet, that’s the priority, right?” 

“I can’t let you take that, Dean.” 

Dean’s blood runs cold. “Can’t or won’t?” 

“Both.”

“How did you get out of purgatory, Cas?” Dean asks. He’s already up shit creek without a canoe, there’s no harm in digging a little deeper now. “Just tell me how you got out of purgatory. Be honest with me for the first time you’ve been back, and this is yours.” 

Dean sees the glint of Cas’s silver blade as it pokes out of his sleeve, and he swallows nervously. “Cas, I don’t know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you’re in there and you can hear me, you don’t have to do this.”

Cas brings up his blade and slams the hilt towards Dean. Dean instinctually raises up the stone to block the hit. Dean’s blood pounds in his ears. “Cas! Fight this! This is not you!” Dean cries, but Cas keeps moving towards him. 

Dean sees Cas’s hand go up for another blow, but Dean doesn’t have it in him to fight back against Cas. He brings up the stone again, prepared for Cas to come at him. Instead, Cas grabs his own head and yells, “What have you done to me, Naomi?” 

_What the hell? _Dean thinks in alarm. “Who’s Naomi?” 

Dean takes a chance and edges closer to Cas. He puts his hand on Cas’s shoulder, but Cas flings him backwards into a wall. Dean groans and sits back up. He can feel blood trickling sluggishly down his face. Cas moves towards him and drags Dean to his feet. Cas gets in a hit to Dean’s jaw. The force makes Dean bite his tongue, and now he can taste the copper that he could only smell before. Dean raises his hands weakly and tries to throw a punch back, but Cas grabs his forearm. It snaps with a sickening crunch. Dean thinks he might throw up if Cas doesn’t kill him first. 

Dean drops the stone. It shatters with a loud crash and the tablet it was encasing is revealed. Lightning flashes in the room, turning everything white and grating on Dean’s overstimulated senses. Cas continues to hold Dean up by his collar, but he doesn’t even look at Dean, just stares dispassionately at the tablet. Through a mouthful of blood, Dean spits, “You want it? Take it! But you’re going to have to kill me first. Come on, you coward. Do it. Do it!” 

Cas continues hitting Dean with punch after punch. After a particularly fierce one to his sternum that knocks the breath out of him, Dean manages to choke out, “Cas, this isn’t you.” 

Dean falls to his knees. His vision dances wildly as black spots dot his view. Cas raises his hand again, and Dean thinks this might be the last one he can take before he passes out. He reaches out towards Cas’s trench coat and tugs on it. “Cas. Cas, I know you’re in there. I know you can hear me, Cas,” Dean’s voice breaks as he sees Cas raise his hand once more, “Cas, it’s me. We’re family. We need you. _I _need you,” Dean says softly. 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut. He pictures Cas looking up at him from a spot leaning against Dean’s side in purgatory. He tries to forget this memory of Cas, the one where it’s Dean’s own blood staining his coat and collar of his crisp white shirt. He hears Cas’s blade clang to the floor, and he opens his eyes in confusion. He sees Cas bend over to pick up the tablet. A glow starts to emanate from Cas. Dean weakly raises his arm. “Cas? Cas?” 

Dean can barely see because one eye is almost completely swollen shut, but he stills sees Cas advancing towards him. Cas reaches out a hand to touch Dean’s forehead. “No! Cas!” 

Instead of the terrible pain and the smell of burning flesh Dean was expecting from being smote, his vision clears, and his arm seems to knit itself back together. “I’m so sorry, Dean,” he hears Cas say. 

“What the hell just happened?” Dean gasps. 

Cas extends a hand for Dean to grasp and helps him up. He explains about Naomi mind controlling him or something. There seems to be something else bothering him, but he doesn’t elaborate, and Dean doesn’t push. 

“What broke the connection?” he asks instead. 

“I don’t know. I just know that I have to protect this tablet now.” 

“From Naomi?” 

“Yes. And from you,” Cas says. 

“From me? What are you talking about?” Dean asks, but he’s talking to empty air. “Cas? Cas! Damn it!” 

Dean hears a clattering of footsteps descending into the crypt. “Dean?” Sam calls, “Dean! Where’s Cas?” 

“He’s gone. Where’s Meg?” Dean asks. 

“We have to go. Now!” Sam shouts, and Dean runs after him, running a hand along his nose that suddenly isn’t broken anymore. It’s like Cas was never there. 

_And the clock on the wall’s moving slower_

_Oh, my heart it sinks to the ground_

_And the storm that I thought would blow over_

_Clouds the light of the love that I found_

Dean tries to keep his mind off of Cas. He finds a case that looks like vampires and takes it to Sam. Sam, of course, can’t let anything lie. Dean’s saying how it’s fine if Sam wants to take a knee on this case because of the trials and everything, when Sam turns it around on Dean. “I’m fine. Are _you _okay?” he asks.

“Me?” Dean asks in disbelief. He’s not the one coughing up blood, here. 

“Yeah. Cas dinged you up pretty good.” 

“And?” He never should have told Sam what happened in the crypt. 

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” 

“What, like my _feelings_?”

“If that’s what you want to talk about, sure.” 

“Okay. Tell you what. Why don’t I go get some herbal tea. And you can find some cowboy junkies on the dial.” 

“Eat me, Dean.” 

“And you know what? We’ll just talk it out!” 

Sam shoots him a bitch face. 

The case does turn out to be vamps, but to Dean’s surprise, someone is already working it. They solve the case with Krissy and her new friends, and Dean is only reminded a little bit of how similar Krissy is to him. 

“I hate how we were put together, but I can’t deny that it feels right. And why should I let Victor ruin that, too?” Krissy asks fiercely after Dean says they’re taking her to her aunt. 

“So what you’re saying is you like that boy over there, and you want to stay,” Dean says. 

“What, Aiden? No, I mean, he’s like my brother. It’s nothing like that.” 

Dean smiles wistfully. Youthful ignorance. “Yeah, okay,” he agrees. 

Kevin calls them with the second translation of the demon tablet. He says, “An innocent soul has to be rescued from hell and delivered unto heaven.” 

They learn that Bobby’s soul somehow ended up in hell, so it seems obvious who this innocent soul is going to be. While Sam is doing that, Dean goes back to the house boat to keep Kevin company. Kevin’s freaking out about Crowley. He tells Dean he hid the demon tablet to “take off some of the pressure,” and then he locks himself into the closet. 

“Kevin!” Dean yells, and then he smirks a little because he’s turned into the mom from _Home Alone_. 

The smirk falls off his face when he hears, “Kids. So cute when they’re little. Then they turn into teenagers, and the party’s over. We haven’t been formally introduced, Dean. My name is Naomi.” 

Dean whirls around towards the doorway. “Oh, I know who you are, and I know what you did to Cas after he got out purgatory.” 

“After I rescued him from purgatory, you mean. At the cost of many angels’ lives.” 

“You screwed with his head and had him spy on us!” Dean shouts. 

“Well, it is true that I have spoken with Castiel many times, trying to reach out to him, trying to help him. Dean, you must have noticed how purgatory changed him. I mean, he’s been unstable in the past, but I was shocked at how damaged he is now.” 

This is too much for Dean. “Stop, okay? Don’t try to spin this. You think I don’t know that you told him to try and kill me?” 

“Yes, I suppose that is how he would hear it. When I learned of the angel tablet, I did tell Castiel to get it at any cost. That’s my job, to protect heaven. I’m a warrior, just as you are. What would you expect? And now Castiel is in the wind with a hydrogen bomb in his pocket, and I’m scared for all of us.” 

Dean gives her words weight for a few seconds and then scoffs. “Save it. See, I don’t trust angels, which means I don’t trust you.” 

“And yet you haven’t warded this place against us. I know. You’re hoping Castiel will return to you. I admire your loyalty. I only wish he felt the same way.” 

Dean blinks. How does Naomi know about that? He guesses she was in Cas’s head, so she probably knows a lot more than Dean is comfortable with. Naomi continues, “I know you don’t want to believe it, Dean, but we’re on the same side: shutting the gates of hell, bringing Castiel in from the cold. Take a moment. Think about what I said. Oh, yes. I know you’ve been doing business with Ajay,” she says, referring to the demon that helped Sam get to hell, “He did mention, didn’t he, that his way into hell is through purgatory? I knew you’d want to know. You see, we can be of help to each other.” 

She disappears, and Dean’s blood runs cold. _Purgatory? _

Dean calls Benny for help, even though seeing him again gives Dean painful reminders. Honestly, he can’t even believe Benny goes through with the plan. He’s been a shit friend to everyone lately, but Benny still lets Dean behead him and send him to purgatory to help Sam. After Dean manages to swing his machete and Benny’s head rolls, he sits down hard for a moment. Tears blur his vision. He gives himself one second, two, then he takes a deep breath. He has to get to Maine. 

He deals with Sam, Crowley, Naomi, _and _Kevin before they finally make it back to the bunker. He gives Sam a grunt and disappears into his room. He flops onto his bed and heaves a huge sigh. He should never have sent Benny back to purgatory. How didn’t he realize what a low place he was in, that he didn’t even want to come back?

Dean could really just use one thing going right right now. “Cas, where are you, man?” 

By now, Dean has stopped expecting any kind of response, but it still gives him a bit of comfort to reach out like this. “Stay safe,” he says as he walks over to his desk and opens a leather bound journal. It is about a quarter filled, and he flips through it to find where he last stopped writing. It’s something he started after meeting Cas. At first, it was just to record information about angels. About how the demon blade didn’t faze them, how they weren’t as fluffy as people might think. He stopped writing in it after Cas disappeared into that lake, but he picks up his pen now. 

_Dear Cas, _he writes. And writes. 

_My body is starting to quiver_

_And the palms of my hands getting wet_

_I got no reason to doubt you, baby_

_It’s all a terrible mess_

Dean’s constant worry for Sam simmers, but at least he can mother hen Sam all that he wants. His worry for Cas, on the other hand, boils over, but there’s nothing he can do about it. “Oh my god, Dean,” Sam groans when Dean presents him with yet another type of soup. 

They meet Metatron, the scribe of God. Dean is underwhelmed, more preoccupied with the fact that earlier he had to force Sam into an ice bath because his fever and delirium was so bad. Metatron knows absolutely nothing about any of the angel politics that have been going down. More disappointingly, he knows nothing about Cas. The only good thing that comes out of Metatron is his announcement that Kevin wasn’t dead, just taken by Crowley. Metatron transports Kevin to them, and Kevin grins when he announces he has the third trial. Metatron beats him to the reveal, though, “To cure a demon.” 

Dean and Sam are driving, talking about how exactly they’re going to cure this demon, when Dean slams on the brakes. He jumps out of the car. Brokenly, he asks, “Cas?” 

“A little help, here?” Cas groans from his spot on the pavement. 

Dean jumps to action. “Damn it, Cas, what have you been doing?” He lifts at the edge of Cas’s tattered shirt. 

“You know, just trying to keep the angel tablet safe but ending up being tortured,” Cas grates out.

Dean raises his eyebrows at the tone. “Okay, okay. Here, c’mon. Let’s get you in Baby and then we’ll get back to the bunker.” 

Dean and Sam support Cas into the backseat. Dean slides in next to him and tosses Sam the keys. “You good to drive?” Dean thinks to ask. 

“Yeah. I’m feeling a little better now that we know what the third trial is.” 

Dean hums in acknowledgement, a little distracted by Cas’s head lolling against his chest. 

“Cas?” he asks, with only a little bit of panic. 

There’s no response, and Dean gasps when he edges Cas’s shirt up more. 

“Shit, Cas, what did they do to you?” he whispers, looking at the bloody mess that is Cas’s chest. Dean decides to let him sleep, but he works Cas’s shirt off and takes off his own so that he can try and stem some of the bleeding that is still spurting out. He cards his fingers through Cas’s hair, allowing himself this moment while Cas is unconscious. He deliberately avoids Sam’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He can have this, if just for a while. 

When Cas blinks awake about a half hour later, Dean jerks his hand back. “You okay?” Dean asks gruffly. 

“I’m fine,” comes the weak reply.

“Yeah, you look it, buddy. The hole in your chest says otherwise.” 

“Dean,” Cas starts. 

“Save it. We’ll fight when you’re not a pint of blood from bleeding out.” 

“I’m an angel. I can’t ‘bleed out,’ Dean. Anyway, who says we’re going to argue?” Cas adds with a tiny grin. 

Dean just shakes his head. 

He feels his journal’s presence in the room heavily that night. It whispers for him to walk down the hall to Cas’s room and give it to him, show him how much Dean missed him. Dean resolutely ignores it. 

The next morning, Dean drops a box of files about demons onto the war room table. 

“Please tell me that’s everything,” Sam groans. 

“No, not even close,” Dean says with cheer. “How are you feeling?” he asks, sobering quickly. 

“Honestly, my whole body hurts. I feel nauseous and like I’m starving at the same time, and everything smells like rotting meat.” 

“Maybe you should take a break, get some air,” Dean suggests. 

“Dean, the only thing that’s going to make me feel better is finishing this.”

“All right, well, I’ll go get you some grub, keep your strength up.”

As Dean leaves, Cas walks past him, brushing his shoulder against Dean’s. 

“Morning,” Cas says. 

Dean keeps walking, ignoring him completely. If he starts talking, he doesn’t know what will pour out. 

Dean walks to the kitchen and starts banging around, looking for something to take to Sam. There’s not a whole hell of a lot. He walks back to Sam with the plate and says, “Soup’s on.” 

He takes a swig from an open beer bottle sitting on the table. “It’s still good,” he announces and moves it to next to Sam. 

“A half drunk beer, jerky, and three peanut butter cups?” Sam asks skeptically. 

“We’re running a little low. I’ll make a run.” 

“Dean, I can go with you,” Cas says hopefully. 

Dean doesn’t say anything, so Cas continues, “Dean. I’m sorry.” 

“For what?” Dean asks hollowly. 

“For everything.” 

“Everything? Like ignoring us?” 

“Yes.” 

“Or like bolting off with the angel tablet, then losing it because you didn’t trust me? You didn’t trust _me_.” 

“Yes,” Cas says again, more earnestly. 

Dean pauses for a second. “Yeah. Nah, that’s not going to cut it. Not this time. So you can take your little apology, and you can cram it up your ass,” he spits. 

“Dean,” Cas pleads, “I thought I was doing the right thing.” 

“Yeah, you always do.” 

Dean’s hands are shaking a little again when Sam interrupts him from his self-righteousness. “Hey, do we have a room 7B?” he asks, dragging Dean out of the room. 

Dean lets himself be dragged. Cas is probably beating himself up enough without Dean adding to it, he supposes. 

Sam weaves them through the corridors until they find a room filled with files. Sam rifles through one of the boxes, and then he fixes Dean with a look. Dean sighs. 

“Dude, go easy on Cas, okay? He’s one of the good guys,” Sam says. 

“Dude, if anybody else—I mean anybody, pulled that kind of crap, I would stab them in the neck on principle. Why should I give him a free pass?” 

“Because it’s Cas,” Sam says, like there’s no other explanation needed. Dean guesses that’s true. 

Dean tries not to freeze Cas out, but he’s still really fucking hurt. He settles on a type of civility. When Cas volunteers to go with them to find this priest who was curing demons, though, Dean says, “Not you.” 

“Sam is more damaged than I am.” 

“Yeah, well, you know, even banged up, Sammy comes through.” 

Dean sees Sam wincing out of the corner of his eye. _Right, I’m doing that whole nice thing_. 

“Dean, I just want to help,” Cas says with big eyes. 

“We don’t need your help. Just stay here and get better,” Dean says, hoping that comes off softer than the beginning of their conversation. He looks Cas over with a critical eye and reasons that, yeah, Cas could use some time off after apparently being tortured. 

“Look,” Dean says, “I just need some time, okay? I’m really disappointed you couldn’t trust me, and then you ended up captured. Do you think I wasn’t worried out of my mind that whole time? You could have at least given me a call!” 

“I’m sorry,” Cas repeats. 

“I know you are. That’s just—it’s not enough this time, Cas. I need to clear my head,” Dean says and goes to prepare for their trip. He sees Sam shooting Cas an apologetic look, but he ignores it. He needs to hang on to his anger, at least a little, or he’ll just go slinking back to Cas, and then Sam will find out, and he just doesn’t want to deal with that whole thing right now. He can already see Sam’s puppy eyes and a sincere “I’m sorry you didn’t feel like you could tell me, Dean,” and if that happens, Dean will explode. Nope, it’s best to keep this all under wraps for now. 

That night, he feels Cas’s absence like an ache. _Whose stupid idea was it for Cas not to come, anyway, _he grumbles to himself as he rolls over for the third time in just as many minutes. Sam throws a pillow at him. 

Dean wants to call Cas, tell him that he’s forgiven, tell him Dean doesn’t want to waste anymore time, that he wants what they had in purgatory now that Naomi isn’t hanging over Cas’s shoulder making him lie to Dean. Dean decides to wait until they get back to the bunker. That’s a conversation he wants to have in person. 

They make it back to the bunker, and Dean rushes inside. “Where’s the fire?” Sam laughs. 

“Can it, Sammy,” Dean says but slows down his pace a little bit as he walks down the hallway. He raps on Cas’s bedroom door. There’s no answer, so he pushes it open. Cas isn’t there. _Well, the bunker’s big. He could be anywhere, _Dean reasons. Dean looks for another few minutes, heart sinking lower the whole time, until he circles back to the kitchen where Sam is standing. “I can’t find Cas. You think he blew town?” Sam asks. 

Dean’s heart somewhere around his ankles, he says, “Sounds like him.” 

Whatever. They have a demon to cure. Dean and Sam talk about it, wondering where they’re going to get a demon from. Dean might be feeling a bit reckless when he suggests sewing Abaddon’s head back on, but Sam agrees without too much convincing, so it must not be that bad of an idea, right? 

They leave their Abbadon reconstruction project for a minute when Crowley calls them just to say he’s going to kill everyone they’ve ever saved until they stop going through with the trials. 

Dean reckons the whole thing wasn’t a good idea the moment they come back in and Abaddon is gone. Fucking peachy. Dean sighs. 

They race off to save Sarah Blake from Crowley, but they’re too late. Dean’s mood darkens even more when he tries to call Cas, and he doesn’t answer. Sam gives a half hearted attempt to cheer him up, but Dean waves him off. Sam just watched someone he used to like a lot _die_, Dean will get over Cas not returning his phone calls. Probably. 

Dean grits his teeth when Crowley calls to say Jody is next unless they hand over the demon tablet, but he starts to think of a plan. 

When Crowley comes to collect the demon tablet, Dean slaps a handcuff on him. Crowley will work to cure just as well as any other demon. Crowley throws a couple of punches, but Dean just stands there and takes it. He spits out blood, thinking that this is a fitting punishment for the people he lets down all the damn time. Cas, Benny, _Sam, _with these damn trials. 

Crowley eventually gives up and lets Dean drag him into the church. Dean chains him to a chair and paints a devil’s trap around him. 

Crowley tries to taunt Dean, but Dean just tunes it out. He feels numb, and there’s no way Crowley is breaking through that. Dean finishes the trap and walks out to Baby to put the spray paint away. Sam is standing there, looking anxious about the confession he has to do to purify his blood for the ritual. Dean knows the feeling. He’d be in there for days if that was him. “I could give you suggestions, if you want,” Dean says, feeling spiteful for a reason that is in no way connected to Cas. 

“Yeah, sure.” 

“Well, I’m just spitballing here, but if I were you, maybe start with, Ruby, killing Lilith, letting Lucifer out, losing your soul, not looking for me when I went to purgatory…” 

“Thanks,” Sam spits and walks away in frustration. 

He sighs at himself when, out of nowhere, Cas appears. 

“Dean, I need your help,” Cas says urgently. 

“Little busy, Cas. Take a number,” Dean says in annoyance. Cas thinks he can flap away without even leaving a note and then come back without Dean being upset with him? 

“I’m afraid this can’t wait. Naomi has taken Metatron.” 

“And you know Metatron how?” Dean asks, furrowing his brow. 

“I’ve been working with him on the angel trials. We’re going to shut it down. Heaven, hell, all of it.”

“Metatron? The guy who was full on crazy cat lady hoarder angel yesterday? Now he wants to save heaven?”

“Yes, he wants to,” Cas says in frustration, “But I’m the only one who can. I can’t fail, Dean, not on this one. I need your help.” 

Dean’s heart clenches without his permission. Cas is trying so hard to make up for what he’s done to heaven, even after all the shit they’ve done to him. But, “Look, Cas, that’s all well and good, okay, but you’re asking me to leave Sam, and we’ve got Crowley in there tied and trussed. Now, if anyone needs a chaperone while doing the heavy lifting, it’s Sam.” 

“You should go,” Sam says, making him jump a little. 

_Where did he come from? _ “Oh, what, and leave you here with the king of hell? Come on.”

“I got this, and if you guys can lock the angels up, too—that’s a good day.” 

Dean hesitates. He really doesn’t want to leave Sam alone, but he doesn’t want to leave Cas high and dry, either. He ignores the irony of that while Cas reaches out. Cas’s hand feels heavy on Dean’s shoulder until his stomach flips too much to focus on that anymore. 

They appear in the bunker. “Damn, Cas, a little warning next time?” 

Cas just squints at him. Dean sighs. “What do you need here, anyway? You took off in a hurry the other day,” Dean adds, mumbling. 

“Dean, I had to do something. I can help heaven this way,” Cas insists. 

Dean relents. “Fine.”

They find Kevin sitting in the war room, and Cas presents him with the angel tablet. Kevin looks at them in disbelief. “You want a translation in like six hours when it took me six months and a dead mom to translate a piece of the demon tablet? And according to your words this morning, this is not what I do. It’s what I did. You told me I was out, Dean.” 

“Yeah, well,” Dean waffles, but Cas surprises him. 

“Dean’s right. There is no out. Only duty.” 

Cas grabs Kevin by his collar and yanks him up to eye level. Dean feels vaguely disappointed he’s not the only one Cas gets physically displeased with, but then he dismisses it as a worthless thought and focuses back on the situation. 

“Get the hell off me,” Kevin says. 

“You are a prophet of the Lord, always and forever until the day you cease to exist, and then another prophet takes your place. Now, are you clear as to the task before you?” 

Kevin hastily nods. 

“Then do it, and let’s go,” Cas says, before grabbing on to Dean and flapping them off again. 

Dean sighs, resigned to at least two weeks of constipation. 

Next, they go to a bar to look for a cupid’s bow that Metatron insisted Cas needed. It looks like it’s going to be a waiting game, so Dean starts talking. “You sure about this? I mean, it’s one thing for me and Sammy slamming the gates to the pit, but you—you’re boarding up heaven, and you’re locking the door behind you.” 

“I know,” Cas replies softly. 

“You did a lot of damage up there, man. You think they’re just going to let that slide?” Dean asks, hoping maybe Cas can relieve some of his worries. 

“Do you mean do I think they’ll kill me? They might.” 

Dean sucks in a breath. “So, this is it? ET goes home?” 

Cas, of course, doesn’t get the reference. They quiet as what hopefully is their love story they’ve been waiting for unfolds. Dean snorts when he realizes it’s the two men that are being set up, not one of them with the woman standing right there. He wonders if God is somewhere laughing at him. 

They manage to get the cupid’s bow without any violence, but Dean’s hopes aren’t exactly inflating when he calls Kevin to learn Kevin hasn’t found any mention of these ingredients relating to the angel trials. He’s still on the phone when he hears a rustling of wings. He turns around to see if Cas has disappeared, but he’s met with Naomi. 

Naomi goes on to say that Metatron has been lying to Cas, using him to try and expel all of the angels out of heaven and on to earth. Then she goes on to drop the bombshell that “If Sam completes those trials, he is going to die. It was always God’s intention—the ultimate sacrifice.” 

When she vanishes, Dean holds his phone back up to his ear. “Is she lying?” he demands. 

Kevin replies, “I don’t know.” 

“Well, find out!” 

“She’s lying,” Cas insists, trying to soothe him. 

“Take me to him. Take me to him now!”

Cas complies. 

When they make it back to the church, Cas says, “Dean, I’m not wrong. I’m going to fix my home.” 

And then he vanishes. “Cas!” Dean shouts, but he is well and truly gone. 

He rushes into the church. “Sammy, stop!” 

“What’s going on? Where’s Cas?” Sam asks. 

“Metatron lied. You finish this trial, you’re dead, Sam.” 

Dean’s heart breaks when Sam looks him in the eye and asks, “So?” 

“Sammy,” Dean whispers. 

“Look at him. Look at him! Look how close we are! Other people will die if I don’t finish this!” 

“Sam, we have enough knowledge on our side to turn the tide, but I can’t do it without you.”

“You can barely do it with me,” Sam spits, “I mean, you think I screw up everything I try. You think I need a chaperone, remember?” 

“Come on, man, that’s not what I meant.” 

“It’s exactly what you meant! You want to know what I confessed in there? My greatest sin? It was how many times I let you down. I can’t do that again. What happens when you decide I can’t be trusted again? Who’re you going to turn to next time instead of me? Another angel, another vampire? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch your brother just—” 

Dean interrupts, “Hold on! You seriously think that? I know we’ve had our disagreements, okay? But Sammy, come on, I killed Benny to save you. Don’t you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you! It’s never been like that! I need you to see that. I’m begging you.” 

“How do I stop?” Sam asks in a voice that makes Dean’s insides aches. 

“Just let it go.” 

“I can’t. It’s in me, Dean! You don’t know what this feels like,” Sam insists. 

“Hey, listen, we’ll figure it out, okay? Just like we always do. Come on,” Dean says, pulling Sam in for a hug. “Let it go, brother.” 

Dean lets Sam lean on him as they make their way to Baby. They’re almost there when Sam collapses. 

“Sam? Sam?” Dean shouts, and then, “Cas? Castiel! Where the hell are you?” 

He looks up at the sky when a flash of white catches his eye. All of a sudden, there are streaks and streaks of light bursting across the sky. “No, _Cas_.”

“What’s happening?” Sam manages to gasp out. 

“Angels. They’re falling.” 

_And I’ll run in the rain till I’m breathless_

_When I’m breathless, I’ll run till I drop_

_And the thoughts of a fool gotta count_

_I’m just a fool waiting on the wrong block _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have questions/ concerns drop me a comment or message me on tumblr and I will be happy to answer. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and I would love it if you commented!


	2. You Can't Stay, Bro

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean looks down at Cas’s earnest face, and his heart aches a little at what he's about to lay down on the poor guy.  
“Listen, buddy. You can’t stay,” he says, figuring it’s better to rip the band aid off all at once.  
“What? Dean, I know I might not be worth as much as I was when I was an angel, but I can still be useful.”  
“Cas,” Dean says softly, “it’s not about that. You don’t have to earn your keep to stay here.”  
“So why are you kicking me out?”  
Dean doesn't look Cas in the eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry this is a shitty situation, and I’m sorry I can’t explain better. I hate to do this to you. I’m not just leaving you high and dry, though. I have some cash for you, a phone, and I’ll drive you to the bus station, get you a ticket for anywhere you want.”  
“Now?” Cas asks.  
“Yeah. I’m sorry, buddy.”  
“Dean, just, stop,” Cas says and stands up. “Let’s go, then.”  
Dean swallows at the sight of Cas with everything he owns being just the clothes on his back. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for copious alcohol abuse on Dean's part

Dean looks back down at Sam. “Sam? Sammy?” 

He shakes Sam a little, but there’s no response. “Shit, shit,” he curses. 

“Cas? Cas, I could really use some help down here!” Dean calls. 

He waits for a few hopeful seconds, but there’s no response. Dean runs a hand down his face, then tries to arrange Sam in a fireman’s carry. He lugs him to Baby, panting the whole way. For all the salads Sam eats, he is still very solid. He shoves Sam into the backseat, trying not to panic because of his unresponsiveness. He quickly yanks his phone out of his pocket and looks up the nearest hospital. Linwood Memorial Hospital it is. 

He drives as fast as he can without killing them both before they get there. He keeps telling himself five more minutes, even when his phone disagrees. An eternity later, Dean peals into the hospital lot. He pulls right up to the emergency room and races inside. “Help!” he shouts, his voice cracking. Several nurses look up, and he leads them to his car. One brings a gurney, and they hurriedly transfer Sam onto it. They mutter among themselves, and Dean’s anxiety spikes. He follows them closely as they roll Sam into the hospital, but the nurses stop Dean as they take Sam farther into the recesses of the hospital. One nurse sits with him to ask questions, but Dean doesn’t have any answers to give. 

Eventually, they let him into the room where Sam is. They’re waiting on results from tests, but everyone’s grave faces don’t exactly inspire hope. 

Dean grabs Sam’s hand. He doesn’t know why, exactly. The last time he held Sam’s hand, Sam was probably eight and crossing the street, but he just needs this one comfort right now. Cas is who knows where, and Sam is here, in this staunchly lit room, lying here dying, for all that Dean knows. 

“Cas,” Dean whispers, “where are you? I’m starting to get a little worried, man.” 

Unsurprisingly, there’s no response. 

The doctor comes back and does nothing to abate Dean’s fears. “There’s no recovery? No bounce back? No nothing?” Dean asks. 

“I’m afraid that’s in God’s hands now,” the doctor replies. 

Dean scoffs and goes to ask the one person he has any faith in for help one last time. 

His feet lead him to the hospital chapel. He walks in and takes a seat towards the back. He kneels down and closes his eyes. “Cas, are you there? Sammy’s hurt. He’s hurt real bad. And I know you think that I’m pissed at you, okay? But I don’t care that the angels fell. So whatever you did or didn’t do, it doesn’t matter, okay? We’ll work it out. Please, man, I need you here,” Dean says, a note of pleading entering his voice. 

He looks around, willing Cas to appear. He’s sure Cas is blaming himself for all the angels falling, but Dean just wants to hear whatever happened from Cas in person, damn it. He doesn’t really care about anything else. He gives Cas another few seconds before sighing and saying, “Screw it. Okay, listen up. This one goes out to any angel with their ears on. This is Dean Winchester, and I need your help.” 

Dean makes his way back to Sam’s bedside where he’s still unmoving. The only relief he has is the shallow rise and fall of Sam’s chest. A grief counselor comes to talk to him. At least it helps to remind him that Crowley’s in his trunk, so he might as well be getting some use out of him. 

He’s at Baby’s trunk when he feels a blade against his throat. “You prayed?” a man’s voice asks. 

“Yeah, for help,” Dean splutters. 

“Yes, you’ll be helping me. If you lie to me, Dean Winchester, I will rip your throat out. Where is Castiel?” the angel demands. 

“Who’s asking?” 

“Try every angel who was ejected from their home.” 

_Join the club, buddy. _“Oh, in that case, I have no clue.”

Dean’s head is getting slammed against Baby’s trunk when another angel appears and saves him from death by crushed skull. He breathes a sigh of relief.

Dean and Ezekiel are next to Sam’s bed, Ezekiel poised to heal Sam, when Dean’s phone rings. He pulls it out. “Who is this?” Dean asks gruffly. 

“Dean,” he hears a familiar gravelly voice say. 

“Cas? What the hell is going on?” Dean asks, his heart rate immediately going up. He had been hoping Cas wasn’t dead, but he was definitely starting to doubt it before now.

“Metatron tricked me. It wasn’t angel trials. It was a spell. I wanted you to know that,” Cas says urgently. 

“Okay. That’s great, but we’ve got ourselves a problem,” Dean says. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“They say Sam’s dying.” 

“What happened?” Cas asks. 

“I don’t know. I mean, first, he was okay, and then he wasn’t. Have you heard my prayers? I’ve been praying to you all night.” 

“Dean, Metatron took my grace.” 

“What?” That can’t be right. Cas as a human? 

“Don’t worry about me. What are you doing for Sam?” Cas deflects. 

That does absolutely nothing to ease Dean’s worries, but he lets the redirection happen. He tells Cas about Ezekiel, and Dean’s relieved to hear Ezekiel has Cas’s stamp of approval. Then, Cas says he’ll come to help. 

“Hey, no, that’s not an option,” Dean protests, “Hey, Cas, listen to me. There are angels out there, okay? They’re looking for you, and they’re pissed.” 

“Not all of them, Dean. Some are just looking for direction. Some are just lost,” Cas says. 

Dean groans internally. “What are you talking about?” 

“I met one. I think I can help her, Dean,” Cas insists. 

“No, Cas. I know you want to help, okay? I do, but helping angels is what got you in trouble in the first place. Now, I’m begging you. For once, look out for yourself. Until we figure out what the hell is going on, trust nobody.” 

“And do what? Just abandon them all?”

Dean’s stomach twists. “Damn it, Cas. You hearing yourself? There’s a war on, and it’s on you. There’s thousands of them out there. You said you lost your grace, right? That means you’re human. That means you bleed, and you eat, and you sleep and all the things you never had to worry about before.” 

“I’m fine, Dean.” 

The hospital starts to rumble with the impending angel showdown, so Dean has to go, but he directs Cas to get to the bunker. Alone. He hurries back to Sam’s room and tells Ezekiel to get the hell on with his healing while he goes to hold off the angels. He ends up banishing them before rushing back to Sam’s side.

True to how Dean’s day has been going so far, Ezekiel says he won’t be able to heal Sam without possessing him. Dean rubs a hand down his face. He tells Ezekiel to do it. 

Dean’s worry for Sam and Cas gets overshadowed momentarily by Abaddon making a reappearance. He groans at himself again for ever stitching her head back on her body. 

They’re back in Lebanon, and Sam is looking a lot better when Dean’s anxiety for Cas overflows. Cas should have been at the bunker days ago, so Dean can’t just leave him out in the cold when he doesn’t know the first thing about being human. Sam finds a few articles that look like angel kills, and they go from there. 

When they finally find Cas, Dean bursts through a door to see Cas tied to a chair with a woman standing in front of him holding an angel blade to his neck. “Cas!” Dean shouts. 

The woman stabs Cas in the chest. Dean sees red and charges at her, but he gets flung into the wall. Dean gets up while the woman focuses on Sam. The blade sticking straight out of Cas’s chest holds his attention for a painful second. Sam gets knocked away by the woman, but Dean slinks behind her and takes the moment to stab _her _in the chest. Dean barely sees the flash of white that marks her death because of his rush to get back to Cas. “Cas?” he asks, holding Cas’s head in his hands. “Cas. Cas!” 

Cas doesn’t respond, and Dean’s voice cracks when he says again, “Cas?” and stands back up. 

“Sam, he’s gone,” Dean says, feeling like there’s a vice crushing his chest.

Dean tries to school his voice, his face, but this hurts. 

He guesses he’s never going to get back what they had in purgatory, but then Sam walks towards Cas’s body, and Dean realizes it’s actually Ezekiel. Ezekiel holds his hand over Cas’s torso, and light pours from Cas’s wounds. They knit themselves back together. Cas opens his eyes and sucks in a breath. Dean registers Sam’s body collapsing, but he goes to Cas. “Dean,” Cas grates out. 

“Hey. Hey!” Dean breathes in relief. 

Cas’s eyes search his, then land on Sam’s, who’s slowly getting to his feet.

“Cas, you’re okay,” Sam says. 

“Never do that again!” Dean turns back to Cas. 

“All right,” Cas agrees readily, “But I’m confused. I know she stabbed me, but I don’t appear to be dead.” 

Dean has to think quickly. This Ezekiel stuff is getting real complicated, real fast. He whirls to Sam. “Well, you got dinged.” 

He turns to Cas and says, “And, uh, you. I made a deal with her. Said she wouldn’t get kabobbed if she brought you back. She brought you back.” 

“You lied?”

“I did. I do that.” 

_Way too much of it, these days, _Dean thinks. 

The ride back to the bunker consists mainly of Sam shooting Dean and Cas what Sam thinks are discrete glances. Dean rolls his eyes. There’s no way in hell he’s having a conversation about his feelings about Cas when Sam is anywhere within a five mile radius. 

Later, he thinks back and thinks he should have taken that opportunity when he got the chance. First, Cas drops the bombshell that he slept with the reaper that killed him, which, whatever, Dean guesses they’ve never exactly had the exclusivity talk, and she was the one person to actually be there for him while he was on the streets, and Cas doesn’t exactly know typical human protocol about these things, so, _whatever. _But then Ezekiel says Cas can’t stay. 

“No, he’s got the Enochian tattoo. He’s warded,” Dean argues. 

“He was warded when April found him, and she killed him.”

Ezekiel goes on to say that he’s in danger from the other angels, and he’ll have to leave if Cas doesn’t. Dean’s words from that church come back to haunt him. 

_“Don’t you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in front of you!” _he had said to Sam, and it’s still painfully true. 

Dean goes to find Cas. “Cas, can we talk?” 

“Of course, Dean. You know I always appreciate our talks, our time together,” Cas says earnestly. 

Dean’s heart aches a little at what he is about to lay down on the poor guy. 

“Listen, buddy. You can’t stay,” he says, figuring it’s better to rip the band aid off all at once. 

“What? Dean, I know I might not be worth as much as I was when I was an angel, but I can still be useful.”

“Cas,” Dean says softly, “it’s not about that. You don’t have to earn your keep to stay here.” 

“So why are you kicking me out?” 

Dean can’t look Cas in the eyes. “Look, I’m sorry. I’m sorry this is a shitty situation, and I’m sorry I can’t explain better. I hate to do this to you. I’m not just leaving you high and dry, though. I have some cash for you, a phone, and I’ll drive you to the bus station, get you a ticket for anywhere you want.” 

“Now?” Cas asks. 

“Yeah. I’m sorry, buddy.” 

“Dean, just, stop,” Cas says and stands up. “Let’s go, then.” 

Dean swallows at the sight of Cas with everything he owns just being the clothes on his back. “Yeah. Let’s go.” 

They pile into Baby. Dean can feel Cas staring at him as he maneuvers out of the garage, but he doesn’t look over, studiously avoiding eye contact. 

“Dean,” Cas says lowly, “I’m sure you have a good reason for this, whatever it is.” 

“Thanks, Cas,” Dean turns to him with a weak smile. 

His leg spasms a bit when he feels Cas put a hand on his thigh. Dean’s eyebrows raise in confusion. He’s kicking Cas out, and Cas is still trying to comfort him? God, he’s such a piece of shit.

The rest of their ride is in silence. Dean is tense, in spite of, or maybe because of, Cas’s thumb pressing circles into his leg. 

Eventually, they get close to the bus station, and Dean starts looking for a place to park. He pulls into a spot and turns the engine off. He opens his door and walks with Cas to the ticket booth. “Where to, Cas?” he asks, pulling out his wallet. Cas looks carefully at the wall of departures and decides some place in Idaho. Dean gives him a credit card, and Cas orders the ticket. Dean tries not to pay too close attention to where he’s going because he knows it’s going to be hard enough to stay away from Cas, despite what Ezekiel says. Cas tries to return the card, but Dean folds Cas’s fingers back over it. “Keep it,” he says gruffly, “Just don’t use it wherever you end up settling down.” 

Cas gives him a grateful smile, and Dean’s self loathing comes back in full force. “I’ll wait with you until your bus comes,” he says on impulse, even though he had planned to cut and run. 

They walk over to a bench and sit down. Dean keeps his eye on the board with times, and when there’s only supposed to be a few minutes left, he starts, “Cas,” but Cas cuts him off with a kiss. 

Dean is startled, but he is also relieved that Cas isn’t super fucking pissed at him, so he moves his hand to the back of Cas’s head and kisses him back. When they finally pull away, Cas’s lips are a perfect shade of dark pink. “April taught you a few worthwhile things, anyway, right?” Dean smirks. 

Cas pokes him in the ribs and squints at him. “Don’t joke about that. Anyway, I learned most of that from purgatory,” Cas says, but his lips are fighting not to turn up. 

Dean knows they should probably talk about this, that this isn’t exactly a foundation healthy relationships are built on, but he leans back in for another kiss, and they just savor each other until Dean hears the bus pull up. He walks Cas to the bus door. “You have the phone I gave you, right? Cash? Listen, I’m really fucking sorry, Cas. This whole fucked up thing doesn’t mean I want to cut off all contact, okay? Call me and let me know how you’re doing, if you need help with anything, even if you just want to talk. I’m there, capiche?” 

“I capiche, Dean,” Cas says, giving Dean a bittersweet smile as he boards the bus. 

Dean gives him one last wave and walks back towards Baby. 

_In the days of my youth_

_I was told what it means to be a man_

_And now I’ve reached that age_

_I try to do all those things the best I can_

He gets back to the bunker and locks himself in his room. He can feel his journal’s presence shouting at him, but he ignores the urge. He does not cry. 

When he emerges, Sam pesters him with questions about where Cas is, but Kevin is on the verge of another break down, so he deflects Sam and takes Kevin to a hotel for some good old R & R. 

When he gets back from dropping Kevin off, Sam still hasn’t let up. “I still don’t understand why he left in the first place. I mean, the bunker is the safest place for him. Bartholomew and who knows how many other angels are out there, gunning for him.” 

“Look, nobody wants him here more than I do, okay? But, uh, he felt like he’d bring trouble down on us, so he had to split,” the lie tastes bitter in Dean’s mouth, “But if you got a way to help him, I’m all ears.” 

Sam goes on to tell Dean a way they could track all of the angels, but it involves taming one of the Men of Letters’ super computers. All the wires give him a headache just looking at them, so he calls Charlie. 

Charlie arrives a few days later, and Dean finds out she’s started hunting. Dean gives her a disapproving glare, but she smiles at him, and he softens. 

He regrets that he caved when it turns out they have to hunt the freaking wicked witch that was locked up in the bunker, and Charlie dies, just to be brought back by Ezekiel. He so does not need to make a habit of Ezekiel bringing his friends back from the dead. 

That night, he calls Cas. There’s no answer, and he hasn’t even set up his voicemail box. Dean rolls his eyes, refusing to think the worst. 

Dean: _Call me when you have a second?_

Dean wakes up the next morning to his phone vibrating his whole pillow at ass o’ clock in the morning. 

“Hello?” he grunts. 

“Hello, Dean,” Cas answers. 

Dean squints at his clock. “What are you doing up? What were you doing last night?” 

“Sorry, I was asleep when you called me. This is when I get up to go to work.” 

“Yeah, okay. What’s new? How are things?” Dean asks, rolling over. 

Dean’s a little comforted by how well it seems Cas is settling in. He talks about a Nora, and Dean isn’t jealous at all. “I’m glad you’re making friends, dude.” 

Dean can’t help but wonder what in the hell that kiss at the bus station meant. 

The next time he hears from Cas, Cas is calling him about a case. Dean answers the phone, and Cas immediately launches into the details. “Hello to you, too, Cas. How are you?” Dean asks. 

“I am busy,” Cas answers. 

“All right. How do you want to do this? You want to meet up at the latest scene? You want me to pick you up? What?” Dean pulls his phone away from his ear to look at the screen as he hears what sounds like running water, “Cas? Hello?” 

“I’ve got my hands full here. I just thought you should know about the case.” 

“Hey, you sure everything’s—” Dean hears the dial tone. “Okay…” 

Dean goes to his room to pack a bag, and then returns to Kevin and Sam, in the middle of some mind numbing research. “You’re not even going to see him while you’re in Idaho?” Sam asks in disbelief after Dean explains what’s going on. 

“Well, like I said, as long as he’s catnip to angels, he’s keeping his distance,” Dean hedges. 

“So what’s the point, Dean?” Sam presses, “I mean, it’s barely even a case.” 

“That’s why I’m just going to have a little look see, and we’re not going to waste a whole lot of manpower on a big pile of nada.” 

“In other words, a perfect excuse to bail out on research,” Kevin interrupts. 

_Thanks, Kev, that’ll work. _“You got me,” Dean says and walks out of the bunker. 

When Dean arrives in Rexford, he resists the urge to go see Cas immediately. Instead, he goes to the scene. Luckily, the sheriff is there, so Dean gets the lowdown. The sheriff hands him plastic coverings for his shoes. Dean might scoff in the moment, but when he steps into the cabin where the vic died, he is grateful. The guy was—eviscerated. _Yikes_. 

In their phone call, Cas had told him that he had been working at a Gas n’ Sip, so Dean looks up the address of the only in town and goes there next. Dean is just pulling into a parking spot when Sam’s name appears on his phone. “Hey, Sammy, what you got?” he answers, climbing out of Baby and leaning against her. 

“Yeah, we’re almost through the texts over here. We got nothing. We’re pretty burnt,” Sam answers as Dean’s eyes catch on Cas’s figure through the window. 

“Well, there’s one guy there who is nothing if not well rested.” 

“Crowley?” Sam asks. 

“I’m just saying we’re not keeping him chained up for the one liners.” 

“It’s worth a shot, I guess. How’s Cas’s lead panning out?” 

“Four victims suddenly exploded. I tried EMF, hex bags, sulfur, nada,” Dean answers. 

“That sounds like a real case. Dean, I should be there,” Sam says. 

Dean laughs nervously. “Nah, man. I got this one covered,” he says as he hangs up the phone. 

The last thing he needs is Sam showing up with Ezekiel in tow. Dean gives Cas another look and makes a decision. 

“I’ll have some beef jerky and a pack of menthols,” Dean says with his best shit eating grin when he finally comes face to face with Cas. He hopes Cas hasn’t decided to be mad at him yet. 

“What are you doing here?” Cas hisses. 

“Geez, it’s nice to see you, too, Cas,” Dean replies with a sinking heart.

“It’s Steve now. And you surprised me.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual. I mean, I knew you had to lay low from the angel threat, but, uh, wow, this is some cover,” Dean flounders. 

“My grace is gone. What did you expect? Do you have any idea how hard it was? When I fell to earth, I didn’t just lose my powers, I had nothing. I’m a sales associate now.” 

Cas had said he was working at a Gas n’ Sip, and Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting from that. Management? Definitely not this, though. “A sales associate?” 

Cas tells Dean all of his responsibilities, Dean’s gut twisting by another degree with each one Cas lists. 

“Wow. So you went from fighting heavenly battles to nuking taquitos?” 

“Nachos, too,” Cas says. 

Dean attempts a weak smile. “This is not you, man. You are above this. Come on.”

“No, Dean. I’m not. I failed at being an angel. Everything I ever attempted came out wrong. But here—at least I have a shot at getting things right. I guess you can’t see it, but there’s a real dignity in what I do.” 

Dean would have snorted when a woman comes over and says, “Hate to interrupt you guys, but Steve? Customer had an accident in the men’s room,” if it wasn’t so damn sad. 

“I’m on it.” 

“Oh, and tonight,” the woman continues, “Seven at my place work for you?” 

“Great,” Cas answers, and Dean’s heart absolutely does not sink. 

_You kicked him out, what were you expecting? Just because he kissed you, that he’s going to forgive that? Get over yourself, Dean. _

“You’re the best,” the woman, Nora, Dean assumes, says. 

“So that’s what this is about,” Dean says with his best attempt at a grin. 

“What?” Cas actually looks clueless. 

“The girl.” 

“No, Dean. It’s not. Nora is a very nice woman, I’m pretty sure she’s not a reaper intent on killing me, and she’s asked me out. Going on dates, that’s something humans do right?” 

“Yeah,” Dean answers, “I mean, my dates usually end when I run out of singles, but yeah. Yeah, that’s something humans do.” 

Dean’s saved from his fumbling when his phone rings. 

“Agent Lee Ermey,” he says. 

It’s the sheriff with another kill. He hangs up the phone and turns to Cas. “There was another kill, over at the high school. You coming?” Dean asks. 

“I wouldn’t be much use. I don’t have my powers,” Cas protests. 

“So? I’ve never had powers.” 

“You’re a hunter.” 

“And you’re a hunter in training, remember?” 

“Yes, I remember. You said I sucked,” Cas says dryly. 

Dean curses his past self. “I didn’t say that. I said that there was, uh, you know, room for improvement.” 

Cas rolls his eyes. “All right. My shift’s over in five minutes, and my date’s not until later,” he relents. 

“Attaboy! I’ll go get the car.” 

“I have to clean the bathroom first,” Cas says pointedly. 

“Right, right. You need help with anything?”

“No, thank you. I have it handled,” Cas flashes him a tight smile, and Dean offers one of his own in relief. 

Dean is willing to do a lot of things for Cas, but helping clean a gas station bathroom? He shudders. 

On the car ride to the scene, Dean asks, “So how are things going?” 

“Fine,” Cas answers noncommittally. 

“Anyone’s lungs I need to rip out?” 

“No.” 

Well, this is shaping up to be fan-freaking-tastic day. 

It’s surreal for Dean to look over and see Cas standing near him as he questions the witnesses. It’s only been two weeks since Cas left the bunker, but it’s seemed like a hell of a lot longer than that. As he walks away from the girl he had been talking to, he sees Cas with a pensive face. 

“What’s wrong?” Dean asks. 

“I’ve seen this before.” 

“What? Where?” 

“In heaven,” Cas answers, with fear creeping onto his expression. 

“Wait, you’re saying an angel did this?” 

“It’s no ordinary angel. Dean, this is bad.” 

When Cas says something is bad, he is normally not exaggerating one bit, so Dean takes note. Cas explains that it’s a Rit Zien, and it’s basically mercy killing people because it thinks human emotion is so painful. 

Yep, sounds about right. 

“All right, well, we have to stop him,” Dean says. 

“_You _have to stop him.”

“You’re scared,” Dean realizes. 

“It’s different now, Dean. Everything feels different.” 

A part of Dean perks up at that statement, but just as quickly, he deflates. 

“You’re right. You stay safe. Go on that date, all right? Go live a normal life,” Dean says, each word feeling like a barb to his chest. 

Of course, Cas needs a ride to his date. Dean was hoping to make this a quick kill, get the hell out of dodge, and go lick his wounds in private, but luck is not smiling on him today. There’s about an hour left until Cas’s date, so Dean asks him what he wants to do. Cas directs him to a park, and then they sit on a bench together. Dean stares out at the pond, looking at one of the ducks with a line of ducklings following her. Their silence might be a little tense, but Dean finds himself relaxing, anyway. He’s been stressed about Ezekiel and Sam, but for now he can put it out of his mind. As he watches all the life at the pond, he thinks he might know why Cas had enjoyed watching humanity so much. Dean hopes Cas is enjoying being a part of it. 

Eventually, Dean finds himself pulling up to Nora’s house. “Thanks, Dean,” Cas says and opens the door. 

“Cas, wait,” Dean blurts, “I can’t let you do this.” 

“What?” Cas asks in confusion as he pulls the door back shut. 

Dean’s not exactly sure what he means to say, but “You’re gonna wear that on a date?” comes tumbling out. 

Cas looks down at clothes and then back up at Dean, looking adorably offended. “This is all I have, Dean.” 

“Okay, uh, lose the vest.” 

“What are you-” 

“Lose the vest, come on,” Dean insists. 

Cas gives him a distrustful squint, but dutifully takes it off. Dean takes it from him, balls it up, and tosses into the back seat. 

_You’re playing a dangerous game, Winchester, _Dean thinks, but all the same, he continues, “That’s a little better. Why don’t you unbutton it?” 

Cas quickly undoes his two top buttons and is working on a third when Dean stops him. He laughs uncomfortably, “Okay, that’s far enough, Tony Manero. Um, yeah, good,” Dean says, and he’s unable to stop himself from ogling a little bit. “All right, listen to me. Always open the door for her, okay? Ask a lot of questions. They like that, and if she says she’s happy to go Dutch, she’s lying, all right?” 

Cas gives a nervous nod of assent. Dean allows himself a fleeting moment to slap Cas on the chest. “Go get ‘em, tiger.” 

He watches Cas walk up the sidewalk and pick a rose to give to Nora. He offers Cas a thumbs up and mutters, “Nice touch.” 

He’s still sitting there with Baby idling, but Cas doesn’t knock on the door yet. Instead, he turns around and gives Dean a shooing motion. Dean holds up his hands in acquiescence and starts to pull out when a truck backs up right in front of him. Dean sticks his hand out of the window and waves it in annoyance. The truck pulls forward a little and Dean is able to pull out. Still, Dean circles the block a couple of times. When he sees Nora pull out in her car without Cas, Dean is more than a little puzzled. He’s not sure what that’s about, but he guesses if Cas wants to tell him about it later, he will. Maybe she’s going to pick up a pizza or something. 

Dean isn’t sure where he’s driving to, maybe a motel to compile his information of the Rit Zien, maybe a bar to get stupidly drunk, when his phone rings. He looks at the display and answers, “Sheriff?” 

Dean learns that the first crime scene he visited only contained the wife’s DNA, but the husband is missing, too. “He’s still out there,” Dean realizes and starts in the direction of the police station. 

While he’s there, his heart skips a beat when the sheriff is showing him pictures and he realizes the husband’s truck is the same piece of shit that had boxed him in front of Nora’s. _Shit, shit, it’s going after Cas_. Dean races out of the police station and peels out of the parking lot. 

Dean drives as fast as he can, but it’s dark and slippery, and he doesn’t want to risk not making it to Cas at all. When he _finally_ sees Nora’s house, he haphazardly parks and jumps out of Baby. He sprints up the walkway and bursts through the door. His fears are confirmed when he’s met with the sight of the man forcing Cas to the floor. He has an angel blade in his hand and rushes towards Cas’s attacker, but he finds himself being flung against the wall. He is really getting too old for this. There’s an ache throbbing in his knee, and he’s getting up, but the Rit Zien is holding a hand up to Cas’s forehead; he won’t get there in time. Being covered in essence of Cas is not something that’s on his bucket list, not the blood and gore kind, anyway, so he slides the knife across the floor to Cas. Cas clambers for it and stabs the blade up into the angel. White light erupts out of the angel’s mouth, so Dean turns his head. When the scream stops, he looks back over to Cas. Cas looks grim. “You okay?” he asks weakly. 

“How did you know I was here?” 

“Uh,” Dean flounders, “I might have stuck around and saw Nora leave without you.” 

Cas fixes him with a stare but climbs to his feet and goes to the crib in the corner. “Dean, I need your help,” he admits. 

Dean’s heart gives a little clench at the sight of Cas with a baby in his arms, but Dean stands up gamely. 

“She’s very warm,” Cas says. 

Dean hums and steps forward. He reaches out his arms, and Cas hands him the baby. Dean feels her forehead with the back of his hand. “You’re right, but she doesn’t feel on fire or anything. Is there any tylenol around here?” 

Cas goes to the bathroom and emerges triumphantly. Dean smiles at him and reads the label. He fills a syringe and dispenses the liquid into the baby’s mouth. “Used to do this all the time for Sammy,” Dean answers Cas’s questioning look. 

“Hmm. Her name is Tanya, by the way.” 

“So what happened to your hot date?” Dean asks because he can’t wait any longer. 

“It turns out I was never the hot date, just the available babysitter,” Cas answers gravely. 

Dean snorts out a laugh. “You want company? I can keep an eye on the fever.” 

“Yes, please,” Cas says gratefully, “Nora probably won’t be much longer, though. I called her before the Rit Zien showed up.” 

“Shit,” Dean curses, a thought occurring to him, “We can’t exactly leave a dead body lying around, can we?” 

Cas looks like he hadn’t thought of that either. It’s not like they ever stay for cleanup. “I’ll, uh, pull my car around back, and I can put it in the trunk for now,” Dean decides. 

He hands off Tanya to Cas and goes to do just that. He lugs the angel across the floor, careful not to get blood smears anywhere. Cas rearranges a rug to cover up a small spot, and Dean smirks. Dean looks back at the door and sees the dried blood of the banishing sigil Cas had drawn. He sighs and goes to get some Lysol. 

He notices Cas holding his hand close to his body. “You okay?” 

“I’m not sure. It hurts,” Cas admits. 

“All right. I’ll get you some ice, and we’ll see how it feels in a little bit.” 

Eventually, they plop onto the couch together. Cas turns on the tv and looks questioningly at Dean. Dean shrugs. “I don’t care what we watch.” 

Cas flips through the channels until he lands on a PBS documentary. Dean is intimately familiar with television programming you watch when there is absolutely nothing else on (which is always), so he perks up when he hears Ken Burn’s voice. He remembers sitting on motel beds learning about the Civil War back when he was 12 and still looked after Sam while their Dad was away. This one is about the Roosevelts, and Dean settles back into the cushion and watches. His attention drifts to Cas slowly relaxing while he holds Tanya against his chest. Dean can’t help himself, and in a moment of impulse, raises his arm and puts it over Cas’s shoulders. Cas raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you taking me back to the bunker?” he asks. 

Dean swallows, “No, I can’t, I’m sorry-” 

“That’s not an accusation, Dean. I just don’t think we should do this now if you’re just going to leave again.” 

Dean jerks back his arm. “That’s rich, coming from you,” he says, hurt. 

“I know. It’s just- I’m not an angel anymore, Dean. Feelings are a lot stickier now. I thought I had finally gotten over what happened at the bus station, I’m sorry, by the way, but now, being here with you is just dredging up what I felt again, and I don’t need that.” 

Dean knows exactly what Cas is talking about. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Cas? That wasn’t what your pain the Rit Zien picked up was about, was it? It was about falling, right?” 

Cas just looks back at him steadily. Dean gulps. 

At that moment, Dean hears the door open and Nora’s voice call out, “Steve?” 

Dean stands up, Cas following quickly behind him. Nora walks into the living room, looking understandably startled to see Dean. Mercifully, Dean’s phone rings. “Hi,” he says awkwardly, “I have to take this.” 

He walks out of the room. “Hey, Sam.” 

He continues out of the house and goes to lean against Baby, leaving Cas to give whatever explanation he wants. Sam’s voice comes through the phone speakers at a higher pitch than normal, and Dean smirks a bit, but he quickly sobers when Sam tells him the angels falling is irreversible. 

“There’s no way. Crowley’s lying,” Dean protests. 

“No, Dean, not this time. Metatron built the spell to withstand any attempt to reverse it. Are you going to tell Cas?” Sam asks. 

Dean looks up the walkway where Cas and Nora are standing in the doorway. Nora tells him something and gives him a smile, and then Cas is walking towards Dean. “Gotta go,” he tells Sam. 

Dean looks over Baby’s hood to Cas. “Where to, Cas?” 

Cas doesn’t answer, he just gets in the car. 

“Where have you been staying?” Dean tries again. 

“At the Gas n’ Sip,” Cas sighs. 

“What?” Dean asks, shocked. “What happened to the money I gave you?” 

“Other people needed it more.”

Dean scrubs a hand against his face. “Okay. Let’s go get some food first, and then we’ll figure this out, all right?” 

Cas agrees and then turns and rests his face against the window. Dean keeps stealing glances at him, but Cas doesn’t notice. Dean can’t believe this. His best friend, living in some back room? Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a second before opening them and turning the key. He takes a little comfort in Baby roaring to life. He can treat at least one thing in his life right. 

Cas is just as quiet at supper, but Dean doesn’t try to make him talk anymore. He’s a little exhausted himself, but if Cas doesn’t even have a place to live, Dean doubts he’s been eating like he should. Dean orders another meal for Cas to take with him. 

“How’s your wrist?” Dean asks, “Do we need to go to the hospital?” 

Cas pauses before he answers. “No, I’m fine.” 

Dean reaches over to prod at his wrist. When Cas hisses in response, Dean pulls out his phone to look up the nearest urgent care. 

They spend a couple of hours in the waiting room. Dean taps his foot impatiently, but when Cas lies his good hand on Dean’s shoulder, he settles. When they finally get called back, they get sent for an x-ray, and the doctor tells them Cas has a nasty hairline fracture. He arranges a splint going down Cas’s arm before wrapping it all up in a bandage. 

“Looking pretty wicked,” Dean teases, ruffling a hand through Cas’s hair. 

Cas turns to scowl at him, and the doctor gives them a tired smile. 

Dean drives them to a motel that’s as close to the Gas n’ Sip as he could find. It’s about half a mile away, so Cas shouldn’t have any problem walking to work. Dean goes to the motel office and gets a room with one king, figuring he can suck it up and handle sharing a bed for one night, and then Cas will have more room to stretch out the rest of the time. Cas gives him a puzzled look at this explanation until Dean says he paid for the room for a month. “Dean, you didn’t have to do that,” Cas argues. 

“I really, really, did, Cas.” 

Dean notices Cas wince as he settles on his side on the bed. “You good?” he asks. 

Cas hesitates. “I will be.” 

Dean turns back the covers and slides in. The distance between them feels impenetrable in more ways than one.

In the morning, Cas shakes Dean awake. Dean is tense for a moment and scrambles for his gun, but then he sees Cas’s face above his and relaxes. “Dean, I have to be at work in a couple of hours.” 

“A couple of hours?” Dean groans, “Go back to bed for another hour, then.” 

Cas gives him a hurt look. “I was hoping maybe we could get breakfast and spend some more time together before you leave.” 

Dean immediately feels like a jackass. He sits up. “Oh, yeah, sure, Cas. Definitely. I’ll be ready in ten.” 

They go to the nicest diner Dean can find. He doesn’t want to run the risk of Cas getting food poisoning. That’s one human experience Cas does not need to have. Dean orders a breakfast platter for both of them and two pieces of pie. He had hoped Cas would share his love of pie now that he could actually taste food, but Cas just gives him a shrug. Dean clutches his heart and gasps in mock offense. Cas rolls his eyes and pushes his plate toward Dean. Dean pulls it towards him eagerly. The waitress chooses that moment to come over and coo, “Aren’t you guys the cutest couple?” 

Dean wants to protest, but he can see other patrons shooting the waitress dirty looks for daring to say anything nice about them, so he just smiles at her.

When Dean pulls up to the Gas n’ Sip to drop Cas off, he says, “Listen, Cas. Back at the bunker… I’m sorry I told you to go. I know it’s been hard on you, you know, on your own. Well, you’re adapting. I’m proud of you,” Dean manages to say. 

Cas turns to him. “Thank you, Dean. But there’s something Ephraim said. The angels need help. Can I really sit this out? Shouldn’t I be searching for a way to get them home?” 

“Me and Sam will take care of the angels. You’re human now. It’s not your problem anymore,” Dean says, and with that, Cas opens the door and steps out. Before he retreats to the gas station, he leans down and just _looks _at Dean. Dean knows he could get lost in Cas’s eyes, tug him partway through the window and kiss him senseless, but he also knows Cas has declared himself off limits. Dean’s going to respect that. He give Cas a wave, and Cas returns it sadly. 

He goes back to the bunker, back to Sam, and back to Ezekiel’s presence making him censor everything he says. 

“How was Cas?” Sam asks, trying to be clever. 

“I told you I didn’t see him, Sam. He doesn’t want to put us in danger.” 

Dean opens his journal in his room, and he has to resist the urge to burn the whole thing. 

When Sonny calls him, it’s a welcome relief. His time at the boys’ home was some of the best of his life, and he never would have wanted to leave if Sam was there, too. Even then, his worry for Sam got the best of him. 

When he sees Robin, his old girlfriend who taught him how to play the guitar, he figures that it’s a sign. Maybe she can show Dean how to play her strings, Dean smirks, now that they’ve both progressed past making out and awkward fumbling. He drags Sam to the diner her dad had owned, only to be set back on his heels when she doesn’t recognize him. “Let’s go,” he tells Sam before they even order. 

Later, it turns out she did remember him. Dean is looking for one of the boys when he finds Robin in the living room with her guitar. She’s still giving lessons. Dean is tense, expecting a ghost to appear any second when he tells her, “We got to get out of here, okay? I don’t have time to explain. You just got to trust me.” 

“Trust you?” she scoffs, “And why would I do that again?” she asks, admitting she does remember Dean and how he just ran out on her when his dad came back for him. It stings more than Dean wants to admit. 

Dean: _Hey, Cas. Everything still good on your end?_

Cas: _Fine_. 

Dean is good with curt. Cas is still alive, and that’s all that matters. 

Dean: _Let me know if you need anything._

The next case they’re on, Dean actually does find the perfect person to help him get his mind off of Cas. He fucks a porn star, and he absolutely does not feel guilty for crossing someone off his bucket list. Cas made it unequivocally clear that they weren’t together. And that means he can have sex with whoever he wants. 

Dean: _Just checking in. How’s the motel? _

Cas: _It’s good, Dean. This mattress is very comfortable._

Dean smiles softly at his phone. Sam walks into the war room and asks him who he’s texting. 

“No one,” Dean splutters. 

“Uh huh,” Sam gives him a disbelieving look. 

“I just beat the next level of Candy Crush!” Dean protests. 

Sam just raises his hands in a gesture of defeat. _Whatever you say, Dean._

Dean: _Anything interesting going on at the gas n sip?_

Cas: _Some woman won fifteen dollars on a scratch off the other day_

Dean: _You okay on money? You eating?_

Cas: _Yes, Dean_

_I saw a bluejay today, it made me think of your eyes, _Dean types, but then deletes it. 

That’s edging too close into the territory Cas told him to stay away from. 

Dean: _Watch any good documentaries lately? _

Cas doesn’t answer. 

Dean learns the reason for that when he and Sam arrive at a scene that is sounding a lot like angel killings, and Cas is there. 

“Ah, my colleagues,” Cas says when he sees them. 

Sam seems a little too pleased with this whole situation. “Agent,” he responds with a grin. 

“Cas. What the hell are you doing?” Dean hisses. 

“Um, I still have that badge you gave me,” Cas replies in a low register, glancing around to make sure no one heard him. 

“Cas, you know this is an angel situation, right? I mean, you left that night because angels were on your ass,” Sam interjects. 

This is skating Dean’s lies a little too closely, so Dean commandeers the conversation. “Yeah, and you were living the life, you know? Early retirement, working your way up the Gas n’ Sip ladder...” 

“If angels are slaughtering one another, I have to do what I can to help. It is a risk we should be willing to take, don’t you think? Cas is back in town,” he proclaims. 

Dean huffs. They keep discussing the case, but the second Cas leaves, Dean sees Sam’s eyes light up bright blue, and Ezekiel gives him a disapproving look. Dean shrugs helplessly. 

Cas eats supper with them and almost gives away his lies to Sam at least three times. Dean is tense the whole time, especially with the longing looks Cas keeps sending him. Cas was the one who slammed shut that door, so if he wants it open, he’s going to have to take the initiative. 

Ezekiel storms off after trying to confront Dean while Cas is getting beers, but Dean shuts him down. Cas comes back. “I noticed you look kind of uncomfortable whenever Sam mentions my leaving. Doesn’t he know that you told me to leave?” Cas cuts straight to the point. 

“Here’s the deal,” Dean says, trying to decide how much he can safely tell Cas, “When Sam was doing the trials to seal up hell, it messed him up. The third one, it nearly killed him. If I’d let him finish, it would have. He’s still messed up.” 

“You said Ezekiel healed him,” Cas says in confusion. 

Dean skirts around that statement. “Look, I got to do anything I can to get him back. Now, if that means that we keep our distance from you for a little while, then I don’t have a choice. It’s great to have your help, Cas, but we just can’t work together.” Cas looks at him with big eyes, but he doesn’t say anything else, he just gets his jacket from the back of his chair and leaves. 

Dean: _Please don’t be mad_

Dean: _Okay, you deserve to be mad, just don’t be mad at sam, this is on me_

Dean: _Cas, please just let me know you’re okay _

Back at the bunker, Sam asks him, “Any word from Cas?” 

“Nothing yet,” Dean replies. He really hopes Cas is just being pissy and not somewhere lying in a ditch. 

“And we’re not worried about him, that he just took off like that again? I mean, it’s not like he does this sort of thing alone.” 

_Not worried, _Dean scoffs, _Yeah, I wish. _“It’s the way he wanted it, honestly. Look, he’s been all over the map since he got his wings clipped.” 

Dean: _So did you get a car or something? How’d you get to the scene?_

Dean:_ Don’t say public transit. That is the nastiest thing ever. _

Dean: _You’ll get gangrene_

Kevin has just pointed out that Sam has been off the grid a lot lately, which Dean has noticed too, and is frankly a little concerned about, when Dean’s phone rings. 

“Yeah?” he answers when he doesn’t recognize the number. 

“Dean, I don’t have a lot of time, so listen. The leader of the opposition is an angel named Malachi,” Cas says in a rush. 

“How do you know that?” 

“He had me. I, uh, was tortured. But I got away.” 

Dean rubs at his forehead. Of course he was. “How?” he asks. 

“I did what I had to. I became what they’ve become. A barbarian.” 

Dean’s confused. “What are you—Cas, where are you?” he questions, ready to tell Cas to just come back to the bunker, damn it, and he’d deal with Ezekiel. 

“It’s better I stay away. They’re going to want me even more know. But I’m going to be all right. I got my grace back. Well, not mine, per se, but it will do.” 

“Wait,” Dean is getting way too much information here, “You’re back? You got your mojo?” 

“I’m not sure. But I am an angel.” 

“And you’re okay with that?” Dean asks. As far as he could tell, Cas had actually been content working at the gas station and not having to fight for his life every day. 

“If we’re going to war, I need to be ready,” Cas says decisively. 

“Cas,” Dean starts. 

“Wait, there’s more.” 

As always when someone says, wait, there’s more, Dean’s mind absurdly flashes to Billy Mays. He gets yanked from his thoughts, though, when Cas says, “Ezekiel is dead. He died when the angels fell.” 

“Uh, I have to go, Cas. I’m really glad you’re okay. Text me, all right?” Dean says, and then he’s hanging up. 

_Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit_

He runs to Kevin in the library, and they work out a spell to talk to Sam without Ezeki- whoever jumped his bones—listening in. Kevin wants to know what’s going on. “You’re going to have to trust me. Trust that I told you everything I that I can tell you for now. Can you do that?” 

“I always trust you,” Kevin sighs, “and I always end up screwed.” 

“Oh, come on. Always? Not always,” Dean scoffs. 

Turns out it is always. Kevin is dead, his eyes burned out by the angel possessing Sam. 

Sam is gone. Whatever angel is using him as a vessel is in the wind. Dean builds a pyre, taking pleasure in the steady reverberations of the axe travelling up his arms. He sets the pyre alight and stares for a while. He goes inside and stares at his journal for a while, before finally scribbling some thoughts down. Sam would be so proud. 

Dean dials his phone and calls Cas. “Hey, Cas. Could you come by the bunker? I’d really like to see you.” 

Before Cas has a chance to respond, Dean hangs up and breaks down in tears. He had felt them building for a while, but his dam of repression can’t withstand their pressure anymore. He makes his way back inside the bunker and sits down in the library. Dean’s not sure how long it’s been when he abruptly stands up. He goes to his room and gets his duffel bag to bring back to the library. He goes through the weapons already there and takes inventory. He is adding some of the things the Men of Letters had hanging up when he hears, “Dean?” 

He turns and sees Cas. Dean takes a deep, shuddering breath. “Cas. Look at you, all suited up and back in the game,” he says, seeing Cas is wearing his trench coat. 

“I came as soon as you called…” Cas trails off as he takes in the disarray of the bunker. “Dean, what happened? What’s wrong?” he asks in worry. 

“Sit down, Cas,” Dean says. 

Cas does, and Dean tells him the whole, long story. Dean sees Cas’s faces take on several emotions throughout it, but he can’t pin down what they are. He hopes none of them are contempt. He just really needs someone to be on his side right now. 

“I was so stupid,” Dean says. 

“You were stupid for the right reasons.” 

“Like that matters,” Dean says dejectedly. 

“It does. Sometimes that’s all that matters,” Cas insists. 

Dean doesn’t try to fight him about that. He knows Cas needs that line of reasoning to be true, too. 

Cas tells him if they can make Sam aware that an angel is possessing him, Sam could cast him out. The only problem is, they don’t even know where Sam is. 

Resignedly, Dean has Cas follow him to the dungeon. _The devil you know, _Dean thinks tiredly. 

Crowley says he knows someone that can help them find Sam. The only upside is when Cas offers to drive, and Dean gets to see his car. It’s a gold Continental. Dean smirks. He likes it. 

Eventually, they track down the angel possessing Sam. He’s in someone’s house, and there’s a man with a slit throat on the floor. After a struggle, with Dean once again being flung into the wall, Cas manages to deliver a punch that knocks the angel out cold. “Wow,” Dean pants, trying to catch his breath. 

He’s not turned on. He’s not. That’d be weird, right? 

“What?” Cas asks. 

“Nothing. Let’s get this asswipe to the warehouse.” 

They had set up a warehouse with some sigils and holy oil. Dean drives them there with Cas keeping a close watch on the other angel. Cas slings the angel over his shoulder and carries him to the chair in the middle of the holy oil ring. 

Crowley goes to work with his needles and prods. 

Eventually, Dean can’t take the screams. They’re in Sam’s voice, after all, and Sam being in pain is something he’s tried to prevent his whole life. Dean walks out of the room, gasping for breath. 

“Hey.” Cas follows him out. 

“I can’t watch that anymore.”

“I understand. It’s not Sam, but it’s still Sam.” 

“Pretty much, yeah,” Dean’s voice cracks, “How are you doing?” 

“You want to talk about me now?” Cas asks in surprise. 

“I want to talk about anything that’s not a demon sticking needles into my brother’s brain,” Dean says, fighting tears. “Yeah, humor me, man. How you doing?” 

“I’m okay,” Cas answers hesitantly. 

“Good, good. That’s good. So, what, you just change the batteries out, power back up? It’s that easy?” 

“It wasn’t easy, but I didn’t have a choice,” Cas replies stiffly. 

“Yeah. Well, that’s how it usually goes. Cas—I’m sorry.” 

“About what?” Cas asks. 

Good question. There’s definitely a lot of things Dean could be apologizing for. He goes for the most obvious one. “Kicking you out of the bunker, you know, not telling you about Sam.” 

“You thought his life was at stake,” Cas excuses him. 

Dean wishes it was that easy. “Yeah, I got played.” 

“I thought I was saving Heaven. I got played, too,” Cas returns. 

Dean smiles weakly, but all that does is remind exactly how shitty of a friend he’s been. This is when Cas needed him most. “So you’re saying we’re both a couple of dumbasses?” 

“I prefer the word ‘trusting.’ Less dumb, less ass.” 

Dean feels marginally better when Crowley calls them back into the room. They learn the angel’s name is Gadreel, and Cas didn’t know him because he’s been locked in heavenly prison for all of time. _That’s just fucking peachy. _

Things get even better when Cas explains why he was imprisoned. He had apparently supposed to be guarding the Garden of Eden, but he let Lucifer in. “You ruined the universe, you damn son of a bitch!” Cas shouts. 

Dean rushes forward in alarm. He grabs at Cas’s arm. The last thing he needs is Cas hurting Gadreel while he’s still in Sam. “Cas! Cas, hey!” 

“Dean, he—” Cas tries to protest. 

“I get it. But you got to chill.” Dean puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder. 

Cas violently shrugs it off, but he seems to settle a bit. 

Gadreel chooses that moment to regain consciousness. “It won’t work. You’ll never find your brother,” he gloats, “Go ahead. Poke and prod. I’ve endured much worse than this. And I have all the time in the world.” 

“Shut up!” Dean yells. “All right. Plan B. Cas, you gotta possess him.” 

“What?” 

“Do it now! Get in there, tell Sam what’s going on, and help him kick that lying son of a bitch out!” 

“It might work,” Cas allows, and Dean can see him choosing his next words carefully, “But I can’t possess a vessel without their permission.” 

Crowley clears his throat. 

“No. Not happening.” Dean shakes his head.

“Don’t be daft. Demons can take what they want. I can burrow into that rat’s nest of a head. I can wake up Sam.” 

Dean considers it. Cas protests, but Dean asks, “You got a better idea?” 

Crowley says that they have to let him go after he saves Sam. “Do we have a deal?” 

“Cas, burn off Sam’s tattoo.” Dean won’t meet anyone’s eyes. 

“Dean,” Cas says. 

“Do it. Do it.” _Before I change my mind._ “When you find him, say “Poughkeepsie.” It’s our go word. It means drop everything and run.” 

“I will destroy you,” Gadreel grates out. 

“Eat me,” Crowley replies, and red smoke emerges from his mouth to force itself down Sam’s throat. 

Dean looks away uneasily. He gets to his feet and paces. “A demon and an angel walk into my brother. Sounds like a bad joke,” Dean laughs mirthlessly. 

“Dean, if this doesn’t work,” Cas starts. 

“It’ll work,” Dean insists. 

“But if it doesn’t,” Cas continues, “I just want you to know that I’m here for you. Whatever you need.” 

“I don’t deserve that,” Dean says, but gives him a soft smile all the same. 

Cas returns it. 

Dean goes back to pacing. Cas says that he’s going to make a groove in the floor, but Dean’s nervous energy won’t stop. He appreciates Cas’s stale attempt at a joke, though. Worst case scenarios float through Dean’s mind until finally red smoke erupts back out of Sam’s mouth. All the thoughts fly out of Dean’s head as he runs to Sam. “Sam!” he gasps. “Cas!” he calls over his shoulder, but Cas is already there. 

Dean distantly hears Crowley say, “I’m fine, thanks for asking,” but he ignores it. 

“Sam, are you okay?” Cas asks. 

“Cas?” Sam asks back instead of giving them anything useful to go on. Dean would roll his eyes, but he is so damn relieved to have his brother back. 

Dean is working on untying Sam when a light flashes through the room. Cas goes to the window to check the source, and he grimly announces, “It’s Abaddon.” 

Crowley says he’ll handle it. Dean stares in disbelief for a second, but he quickly shakes himself out of it. “This don’t make us square. I see you again—” Dean threatens. 

“I’m dead. Yes, I know. I love you, too,” Crowley finishes. 

They hurry out to Baby, Sam leaning heavily on Cas. They pile in, and Dean picks a direction and drives. 

Sam is mainly unconscious for most of their trip. Dean finally comes to a stop after they’ve driven for about three hours, and they stumble out. Cas moves his hand away from Sam. “You feel better?” he asks. 

“A little, yeah,” Sam responds. 

“It’ll take time to fully heal you. We’ll have to do it in stages.” 

With that, Cas sees Dean approaching to talk to Sam, so he walks a distance away. Dean knows he can still hear every word they say with his angelic super hearing, but Dean appreciates the gesture, anyway. 

“All right, let me hear it,” Dean says resignedly. 

Sam goes through all the reasons he has to be pissed at Dean, Dean agreeing wholeheartedly with each one, but when he comes to Kevin, Dean can see tears welling up in Sam’s eyes, so he says fiercely, “That is not on you. Kevin’s blood is on my hands, and that ain’t ever getting clean. I’ll burn for that. I will. And I’ll find Gadreel and end that son of a bitch, but I’ll do it alone.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Come on, man. Can’t you see? I’m poison, Sam. People get close to me, they get killed, or worse. You know, I tell myself that I help more people that I hurt. And I’m doing it all for the right reasons, and I believe that. But I won’t drag anybody through the muck with me. Not anymore.” 

“Go,” Sam says, “I’m not going to stop you.” 

Dean deflates and turns to go. He gives Cas a significant look. He stops when Sam says, “But don’t go thinking that’s the problem, because it’s not.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean repeats Sam’s words from earlier. 

“Just go.” 

So, Dean goes. 

Dean: _Look after Sam_. _I’m ok_

Without Sam, or Cas, or anyone there to ground him, he’s reckless. He goes to bars, drinks, and sleeps around, trying to drown himself in anyone who will give him a second glance. Crowley just eggs him on. Eggs him on so much that Dean finds himself with the Mark of Cain on his arm to be able to kill Abaddon without ever really thinking about what the consequences of that particular action will be. 

He drinks. His hands shake. 

Cas: _Are you all right? I can meet you somewhere, if you want_

Dean is too far down the rabbit hole of self loathing when he gets that particular text to take him up on the offer. 

Dean: _Im fine. Take care of Sammy._

Dean doesn’t deserve Cas. Or Sam, but Sam’s made that one abundantly clear. 

Cas: _Dean, I’m worried about you_

Dean: _dont be_

He drinks more. He morbidly wonders what his liver looks like. 

_I don’t want to leave you_

_I ain’t joking_

_I got to ramble_

_I can hear it calling me the way it used to_

He gets a lead on where Garth has disappeared to, and he finds himself in a hospital room staring at Sam. 

He tells Sam about the Mark of Cain, but he barely gets a reaction beyond, “You worked a case with Crowley?” 

Dean’s not sure what he was hoping for. 

They deal with Garth’s new werewolf community, and as they’re getting ready to each get into their car, Dean works up his nerve to say, “Hey. Uh, listen, that night, that, uh, you know, we went our separate ways—” 

“You mean the night you split.” 

“Fair enough. I was messed up, man. Kevin was dead, and I, I don’t know what I was. Hell, maybe I still don’t. But I know I took a piece of you in the process, and for that—Somebody changed the playbook, man, you know? What’s right is wrong and what’s wrong is more wrong, and I just know that when we were together—”

“We split the crappiness,” Sam finishes. 

“Yeah. So…” 

“Okay,” Sam says, and Dean sighs in relief. 

“Whatever happened, we’re family, okay?” 

Sam pops Dean’s bubble completely when he says, “You say that like it’s some sort of cure all, like everything that has ever gone wrong between us hasn’t been because we’re family, but I can’t trust you, not the way I thought I could, not the way I should be able to.” 

“So, what, we’re not family now?” Dean asks incredulously. 

“I’m saying, you want to work? Let’s work. If you want to be brothers…” Sam trails off. 

Dean swallows, then nods. 

They ride in terrible silence for at least an hour before Dean asks, “How’s Cas?” 

Sam smirks a little when he says, “He’s _fretting_ about you,” and Dean thinks maybe all hope isn’t lost. 

It’s not until they’re back at the bunker that Dean realizes he can’t sleep. Without Sam there to keep him on a schedule, he just hadn’t even tried at night. Instead, he took naps during the day in the back of Baby when he couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer. His nightmares are even worse than they usually are, violence and gore flashing behind his eyelids whenever he closes them. The only way he can avoid it is being so bone tired his body can’t work up the energy to dream. 

Dean: _The band’s back together_

Cas: _I’m glad to hear it, Dean._

Dean slips a flask in his pocket before they leave for their case. He knows Sam eyes it, but he’s grateful Sam doesn’t call him out on it. Full sobriety is not something that comes easily, these days. 

Dean: _How are you, cas?_

Cas: _As good as I can be, considering? You?_

He doesn’t want to lie to Cas or worry him, so Dean opts not to reply. A while later, Cas sends him an emoji rolling its eyes. He smiles. 

It turns out the bunker is haunted. Par for the course, really. 

Dean: _What’s new, hot wings?_

Cas: _Hot wings?? _

Dean can almost see his squint. 

Dean: _I thought it was funny. But seriously, what’s up?_

Cas doesn’t reply again. Just one more thing to weigh on Dean’s mind, but it turns out the ghost is Kevin, and the kid’s mom is alive, so Dean pushes it out of his mind for now. 

When Dean goes back to his room after reuniting Mrs. Tran and Kevin, there’s a text waiting on his phone. 

Cas: _Not much. Just killing Bartholomew and gaining some followers on accident._

Dean’s mind is not eased by that at all. He’s going have to have a talk with Cas about being a snarky fuck over text. He sits on his bed for a while listening to music. He closes his eyes and tries to sleep, but it won’t come. He unearths his journal and stares at it, but Cas is still a painful subject. When he was a human, Dean told him to go, and now that he’s an angel again, he left of his own volition. Eventually, he goes to the kitchen for some whiskey. 

Dean: _I changed your name to hot wings in my phone _

Hot Wings: _/:_

Dean: (; 

On the next case, they run into the Ghostfacers, who drive Dean to drink even more. He sees Sam shooting him worried looks, but hey, they’re not even family, so why should Sam concern himself with it? 

Dean: _How’s the creepy cult leader thing going?_

Hot Wings: _Good. How’s mending your relationship with Sam going?_

Dean: _Low blow, dude_

Ed and Harry remind him a little bit too much of his situation with Sam. He switches to vodka for some variety. 

Hot Wings: _Dean, Sam texted me about your drinking habits. He’s worried._

Dean: _What are you going to do, have an intervention? I want to see you anyway_

Things are starting to become fuzzy. Dean’s shocked he can feel anything beyond a slight buzz from alcohol anymore. He studies the label on the vodka, but it swims out of focus. He stashes his phone in his room before he’s three sheets to the wind and says anything too damning, then he returns to the kitchen. 

He wakes up to several increasingly concerned texts the next morning. 

Dean: _I’m fine,_ _I just actually got some sleep for once_

They track down Crowley after he won’t answer Dean’s calls. He doesn’t even have the first blade so they can kill Abbadon because he’s been too preoccupied with his demon blood addiction. That hits Dean like a slap in the face, and he makes a cursory effort to not drink as much, but it doesn’t last after he touches the first blade. 

He’s tied up, and the blade is forced into his hand. The mark on his arm grows red hot. He feels power surging through him, but he also feels a blood lust he normally feels in the middle of a vamp’s nest. He drops the blade. His hand won’t stop shaking. 

Magnus, the Men of Letters creep they were trying to get the blade from, says, “That’s it. Good. Next time, it’ll be easier. You’ll get used to the feelings, even welcome them.” 

_That’s not alarming at all, _Dean thinks. 

Suddenly, Sam walks into the room, holding a knife to Magnus’s throat, except Magnus is still standing right in front of Dean. “Sam, no!” Dean cries. Sam stabs the thing, but the real Magnus pulls a gun on Sam. Soon, Sam is tied to a post the same as Dean. 

“I think Sam here will get you to see things my way,” Magnus says, running a blade down Sam’s chest. 

“Magnus, I swear to God,” Dean spits as he realizes Magnus is going to torture Sam until Dean agrees to go along with whatever plan he has for the blade and whoever has the Mark of Cain. 

Magnus is too busy carving a cut into Sam’s cheek when Dean sees Crowley poking his head around a corner. Crowley hurries to him and releases him from the chains. Dean scoops up the blade and rushes Magnus. He beheads him easily. He feels the power thrumming, momentarily appeased by Magnus’s death. He turns and locks eyes with Crowley. He detects a little bit of fear in Crowley’s eyes. _Good, _a part of him crows. “Dean?” he hears Sam say through a cloud of fog, “Dean, it’s over. He’s dead.” 

Dean’s hand holding the blade starts to shake. He barely registers the alarmed tone in Sam’s voice, “Drop the blade, Dean! Drop the blade!” 

He meets Sam’s eyes, and a part of him comes back to himself. He drops the blade like it burned him. For all Dean knows, maybe it has. 

When they emerge from Magnus’s little bat cave, Baby is keyed. Crowley ends up keeping the blade, _for safe keeping_, and while one part of Dean is relieved, another part is violently angry that someone’s trying to control him. Dean manages to reign that part back in, but it’s difficult when he looks at the gouges in the driver’s door. _That went down to the primer, _he despairs. 

Dean: _what’s up buttercup? _

He needs this normality, this borderline flirting with Cas right now. 

Hot Wings: _Doing fine, clementine_

Dean is vaguely impressed. 

Dean: _Did you look that up??_

Hot Wings: _…._

Dean thought the tremors in his hands were bad enough before when he used to get stressed, but now they’re almost constant. He tries to still them when Sam’s around, but there’s only so much he can do. They quake with _need_ to touch the first blade again. He tries not to be concerned. 

The next day, Sam confronts him. “What’s up with you?” 

“Nothing,” Dean answers defensively. 

“Yeah? See, because ever since you killed Magnus, you’ve been acting… sort of obsessed,” Sam hedges. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “Well, maybe it’s because I want an end to all this. Maybe because if we find Abaddon, then Crowley ponies up the first blade, and we kill her and him both. So, what you call being obsessed, I call doing my job.” 

“Okay, I get it, Dean. I’m just checking in,” Sam says softly. 

“I’m fine,” Dean snaps. 

Sam leaves, and Dean takes a swig of whiskey straight from a plastic jug. 

Hot Wings: _Sam’s worried about you again_

Dean: _Tell him to mind his own business_

Hot Wings: _Dean._

Dean: _Cas. I’m fine. Really_

Dean goes to a bar for a change of pace, only for Crowley to find him there. Crowley does absolutely nothing but make him feel worse about this whole Mark of Cain situation. 

Cas calls him with information about Gadreel. Sam’s in the library with him, so he puts it on speaker phone. Turns out Gadreel had some symbol he was using to attract angels. Cas sends it to Sam, and Sam works on looking it up. While they wait, Cas asks, “How are you, Dean?” 

Dean sees Sam eye him like he expects an honest answer, or even more damning, for Dean to take the phone and walk out of the room. “I’m fine. How about you?” 

“I miss my wings. Life on the road smells,” Cas answers. 

Dean chuckles. Sam comes up with a match for the symbol. “Looks like the symbol’s been found at multiple crime scenes.” 

Sam reads Cas the names of the towns. “Looks like Gadreel’s heading north,” Cas says. 

“What’s the next big town?” Dean asks. 

“There are two. It could be Auburn or Ogden.” 

“All right, you take Auburn, we’ll take Ogden, meet in the middle.” 

Dean: _Stay safe man_

Hot Wings: _I always am_

Dean: _lol good one. Try not to give me an ulcer please and thanks. Text me when you get there_

Cas doesn’t text him. Dean calls. Voicemail. He tries again. Voicemail. He tries again. _The user’s you’re trying to reach voicemail box is full_, an automated voice tells him. 

Somehow, Sam and Dean find and capture Gadreel. “We need Cas,” Dean says. 

“Any word from him?” Sam asks. 

“No, I tried him again. He hasn’t called, hasn’t texted. I turned on the GPS in his phone. He’s still in the same town where we talked to him last.” 

“What the hell?” 

“I don’t know. You got to go find him. You’re too close to this, man.” 

Sam sighs, but relents and goes to find Cas. 

While Sam’s gone, Dean takes advantage of the time to let some of his blood lust out that is always screaming for release. He takes pleasure in slicing shallowly through Gadreel’s skin. He’s not even sure if he really cares if Gadreel tells him how to get to heaven or not. He’s just savoring the moment. Even so, when Gadreel taunts him, hoping for a quick death, Dean controls himself. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Dean asks coldly. He goes back to work, Gadreel’s pained cries filling the space. “Just think what I could do if I had some holy oil,” he adds. Whatever Gadreel sees in Dean’s eyes makes him shrink back. Dean smirks cruelly. _For Kevin, _he thinks. 

Eventually, Dean gives Gadreel a chance to catch his breath. He needs to cool down, too. He goes to a sink and splashes water on his face. The mark of Cain catches his eye in the mirror. He goes back to Gadreel. 

He’s not sure how long he works Gadreel over. When he stops, blood is everywhere. It’s on his fist, Gadreel’s face, and both of their clothes. Dean’s not sure what’s keeping him from thrusting an angel blade through Gadreel’s heart, or better yet, ripping out both of his eyes first. He burned Kevin’s out, after all. Might as well give him a taste of his own medicine. “Dean?” he hears Sam shout. 

Sam races into the room and comes to a halt when he sees Dean. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah. You have to stop asking me that.” 

“I’ve been calling you. Why didn’t you—” Sam catches sight of Gadreel. 

“He won’t talk,” Dean says. 

“I figured.” 

“He wanted to die, and I was going to kill him. But then I stopped because I know we need him to talk.” 

“Dean, listen,” Sam says urgently, “Metatron has Cas. He’s offering up a trade.” 

“We can’t trust Metatron.” 

“I know. Obviously. But we go and set a trap.” 

Metatron appears in their arranged meeting spot disturbingly powered up. He blows out their ring of holy fire. Dean’s fingers itch for the first blade so he could gank the smarmy douche right here. As agreed, though, Metatron hands over Cas when they push Gadreel towards him. Metatron and Gadreel zap out, and Dean turns to Cas. “Somebody want to tell me what the hell’s going on here?” 

“Metatron is trying to play God,” Cas answers grimly. 

“Play God? Cas, he erased angel warding. He blew out holy fire. He is God. How the hell are we supposed to stop him?” Sam asks, pointing out very valid facts in Dean’s humble opinion. 

“All right, so what if there is a stairway to heaven? We find it and get a drop on the guy.” 

“You want to sneak onto the Death Star?” Sam gapes. 

“Okay, I’m not sure what a fictional battle station in space has to do with this, but if taking out the emperor means taking out Metatron, I’m on board,” Cas says, only to be met with shocked glances from Sam and Dean. 

“Did you just understand a reference?” Dean asks in disbelief. 

“I think so,” Cas replies breezily. 

“You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes? Are you? There’s something different about you,” Cas squints. 

“I’m fine,” Dean says, reaching out to pat Cas on the shoulder. 

Cas immediately grabs his arm and yanks up his sleeve. He stares at the mark of Cain. 

“What have you done?” 

“It’s a means to an end,” Dean says defensively, yanking back his arm. 

“Damn it, Dean!”

“Look, you find heaven, drop a dime. Meantime, I got a knight to kill,” Dean says and stomps over to Baby. 

The texts from Cas dry up. Dean texts him, but there’s never an answer. Dean learns Cas has been texting Sam instead. At least Dean knows he’s not dead, but Dean thinks Sam is getting annoyed with him asking for so many updates on Cas. Cas used to text him like five times a day, and now it’s down to none, sue him for being a little worried. He’s pretty sure Cas is madder at Dean for taking on the mark of Cain than he was for kicking Cas out of the bunker. It’s weirdly poetic. 

The next time Dean talks to Cas, it’s because he has information about Metatron. “Sam’s not answering his phone,” Cas says, as if he feels the need to explain why he’s calling Dean after weeks of freezing him out. 

Business as usual, then. Fine. 

Cas texts Sam the address of the meet up. Dean takes a swig from his flask. 

Dean starts to get massive Godstiel flashbacks when they get there, and some angel says, “If you’ll follow me, the Commander will see you now.” 

Cas tells them that he’s trying to avoid a war with Metatron, so he wants their help in getting information out of one of Metatron’s lackeys. 

“If you don’t want to do it, I understand,” Cas says, such a different picture than the last time he asked Dean to torture someone. 

“Who says I don’t want to do it?” Dean asks, his arm already getting a little scratchy. 

Unfortunately, Sam comes up with a way to trick the guy into talking. Dean can’t exactly argue for torture when there’s a peaceful option on the table, can he? 

Then, after all of that, the guy still winds up dead, and Dean didn’t even get to kill him. Dean sighs. 

“This was an angel kill,” Cas decides, looking at the body. 

“Okay. Well, I’m going to say it. Maybe your operation’s been hacked. You know, Metatron’s got somebody on the inside.” 

Cas looks alarmed at this revelation. “That’s the problem,” Dean says, “See, you don’t think anybody’s lying. I think everybody’s lying. It’s a gift.” 

Sam and Dean walk off to ask around, see if anyone pings on their radar. They don’t get very far when Dean’s phone rings. “It’s about time. Where the hell have you been?” Dean growls. 

Crowley answers, “I told you I’d be in touch when I’d found Abaddon. Well, I’m in touch.” 

Crowley tells them where he hid the first blade, and the tremor in Dean’s right hand starts back up. He reaches for his flask before he remembers Sam made him leave it in the car. 

When they find the blade, Sam won’t even let him touch it. Dean rolls his eyes. 

Back in Baby, Dean calls Crowley again. “We got the blade.” 

“You do? Well, you need to get here at once. Cleveland, Humboldt Hotel. Penthouse, of course. When you get here, I’ll take you to Abaddon. I’ll draw her out, and then you can skewer the ignorant hag.” 

“All right. We’re on our way.” 

“Oh, and Dean,” Crowley adds, “You need to get a move on. It’s a good day’s drive from Poughkeepsie.” 

“What are you talking about? We’re not even near there,” Dean says in confusion. 

“Yeah, like I said, you need to leave Poughkeepsie right away.” 

Dean frowns. This smells fishy. 

“So, we good?” Sam asks. 

“Yeah,” Dean lies. 

When they see the hotel, Dean sends Sam to check out the basement. He doesn’t need Sam barging in on Abaddon. This is between her and Dean. Dean grabs the first blade from Sam and heads for the top floor. Dean’s not sure what it is, but something is thrumming through him, keeping him keyed up and on edge. The constant shaking in his hands have finally stopped. Dean takes a pause to take a deep breath. He loves the way he feels in this moment. 

When Dean bursts through the double doors, Crowley is there. “Hello, Dean. Love the crazy bloodlust in your eyes. I’ll take you to Abaddon. It’s not far,” Crowley says with a significant tilt of his head. 

Dean follows the angle and sees a demon standing in the corner of the room. Dean easily stabs it, seeing the familiar flickers of yellow light. He’s riding that high and ready to face Abaddon, when, shocker, he gets flung against the wall. His pulse thumps in his eardrums. He sees a shock of red hair, and then red is all he can see. 

When he comes back to himself, Sam is there, grabbing at his arm. “Dean! Dean! Stop! You can stop!” 

Dean realizes he’s still viciously stabbing Abaddon’s dead body. He blinks blood out of his eyes and drops the blade. 

Later, after Dean’s cooled off a bit, and mainly staring vacantly at the wall, Crowley has to ask, “Do I get no credit for warning you this was a trap?” 

Sam looks confused. Dean sighs. 

Back at the bunker, after having to explain to Sam, sorry, he didn’t want his little brother face to face with a knight of hell when Sam couldn’t have killed her, Dean can’t sleep. He goes to the kitchen looking for something to drink, but there’s no alcohol to be found. He frowns. Sam must have poured it all down the drain again. Dean’s fingers twitch. He told Sam there was no way he was hiding the blade away somewhere, but some part of him realizes that he’s playing with fire. 

He calls Cas. Shockingly, he answers. “Dean!” he says, like he’s just as surprised to hear from Dean. 

“Hey, Cas. How are you?” 

“Good. Well, actually, there’s something very concerning going down in Missouri. How are you?” 

Dean sighs. “I’m… not okay.” 

“Dean?” Cas prompts in concern. 

“I just—my hands haven’t stopped shaking since I killed Abaddon, Cas. I can’t stop thinking about it. Sam’s worried about me, and he _should_ be, but I don’t want to lay this on him, you know?” 

“You killed Abaddon? And you didn’t think to let me know?” 

“Sorry,” Dean says weakly, “We haven’t exactly been on the best of terms lately.” 

Even over the phone, Dean can hear Cas soften. “Dean, you know I’m here for you. Whatever you need.” 

What Dean would really like is a solid, grounding hug, but Cas doesn’t have time for dumb things like that when he has his angel army to worry about. “What’s going on in Missouri? Maybe I can help you out.” 

Cas’s voice brightens. “I’d like that, if you’re not too busy.” 

“Nah. Metatron’s on the top of my list now. What’s the scoop?” 

Cas hesitates. “I don’t want to talk about it over the phone. Anyone could be listening in.” 

Dean rolls his eyes, but concedes Cas probably has a point. “Yeah, okay. Where do you want to meet?” 

The situation Cas skirted around is actually pretty alarming. An angel killed himself and exploded everything in his vicinity right after yelling, “I do this for Castiel!” 

Dean has to admit the creepy vibe of Cas’s army is getting stronger. “I would never ask an angel to sacrifice himself to kill innocents. You can’t think I would allow something like this,” he says, turning to Dean with a pleading look. 

Dean doesn’t know what he thinks. “Cas, I know you try to be a good guy, okay? I do. You try. But what you got here, this is a freaking cult.” 

“Dean,” Cas protests. 

“And the last time you had this kind of juice, you did kill humans and angels, and you did nothing but lie to me and Sam about it the whole damn time!” Dean yells, some of the rage that’s been omnipresent since he got the mark finding kindling. 

“Will you stow the baggage?” Sam asks in annoyance. 

Eventually, they decide Dean will go around to the hospital where Cas had the angel stationed, and Sam and Cas will try to find one of Cas’s angels that went missing this morning. 

Dean goes to the hospital, and he can admit he might have gone a little overboard in interrogating the angel he talks to. But he gets the information he needs. _If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, _Dean thinks. 

He’s led to Tessa, a reaper, and he finds her with the same sigils carved into her stomach as the dead angel had. He drags her back to Cas’s little nerve center. The angels there are restless. Dean tugs Tessa past them into a back room. Hannah, Cas’s second in command, stops him from taking any weapons inside with him. “There’s only one person who can punish her,” she insists. 

Dean rolls his eyes but leaves his angel blade outside. If they don’t know he has the first blade on him, well, that won’t hurt anybody. 

That plan maybe backfires a little when Tessa impales herself on it, but Dean shrugs it off. _What can you do?_

Sam and Cas don’t see it that way when they return, but they still untie Dean from the chair the angels had forced him in. Any berating of Dean they are planning gets interrupted when Hannah comes into the room. “Commander, I’m sorry, but you have a call from Metatron.” 

They go out to where all the angels are gathered, watching Metatron on a large screen. 

“What do you want, Metatron?” 

“Oh, just to tell Ass-tiel that I’m still alive. His bomber failed.” 

Cas squints in confusion. 

Metatron rambles a little bit more before saying to all the angels in the room, “I’m offering amnesty. One time only. Every angel, no matter their sin, may join me and return to heaven. I will be their God, and they can be my heavenly host.” 

“Why would we follow you?” Hannah asks. 

“You’ve seen earth. You’ve had a taste of free will. Do you like it? I mean, the way you’ve flocked to Castiel tells me you need to follow someone. But Castiel isn’t who you think he is. He sends angels out to die. Have you told them about your stolen grace, Castiel? How it’s fading away, and when it burns out, so will you? You want to stay with Castiel, fine, but he’s playing you. At the end of the day, the only thing he cares about is himself and the Hardy Boys there. You’ve got a choice to make. Make the right one.” Metatron ends the video call, and the angels titter among themselves. 

The angels give Cas a choice. Punish Dean for killing Tessa or lose his army. For the first time in Dean’s life, someone chooses him when they have nothing to gain and everything to lose. 

When they get back to the bunker, Sam’s pissed at Dean for taking the first blade when he had agreed to leave it behind, but Sam’s anger is nothing new these days. Dean sits down in a chair across from Cas. They’re in the middle of a conversation when Gadreel bursts into the bunker. Dean is immediately on high alert. Gadreel tells them he can help them find Metatron. Dean steps forward to shake his hand, but when he makes contact, all he can see is red. Gadreel tricked him, and he killed Kevin. Dean is jumping forward to slice a gash down Gadreel’s chest with the first blade before he even thinks about it. Sam and Cas rush forward to restrain Dean while Gadreel crumples to the ground. 

“Drop the blade, Dean,” he hears Sam say. 

“Move,” Dean yells, still trying to get at Gadreel. 

“Dean, look at me.” 

Dean won’t stop struggling, and Cas grabs Dean’s arm and drags him away. “Woah, buy a guy dinner first, geez.” 

Dean snarls as he’s shoved into the bunker’s dungeon. “And you two are going to do what?” he shouts at their retreating backs, “Take on Metatron yourselves? Cas lost his angel army, and now you’re trying to lock up the one guy who has a shot at killing the son of a bitch? Hell of a plan, fellas!” 

The door shuts with a resounding clang. “Look, hey! Guys! Sam!” he calls, but there’s no answer. 

Alone with his thoughts. That’s exactly how he wanted this day to go. Dean stomps around, kicking at the walls until eventually stopping because of a coughing fit. He throws up on the ground, but it’s red. Dean walks to the mirror on the wall and sees blood on his face. Even the sight of his own blood makes the mark hungrier. Dean has to get out of here. 

He manages to find what he needs to summon Crowley. “What the hell’s happening to me, you son of a bitch?” he says. 

He meant it to come out strong and accusatory, but even to his own ears, it sounds a little pathetic. “The mark wants you to kill. The more you kill, the better you feel. The less you kill, the less better you feel,” Crowley shrugs.

“How much ‘less better?’” Dean squints. 

“One would imagine the least best better.” 

Dean convinces Crowley to help him hunt down Metatron. Crowley retrieves the first blade for him, and then they’re off. They stop at a diner to gather their information, but Dean’s not hungry. Crowley shows him a video of Metatron healing someone. Crowley says it was taken a few hours ago in Muncie, Indiana, so they follow the lead, only to run into Sam. “I guess one of us doesn’t need a demon to help follow a clue trail,” Sam says irritably. 

“Sam, whatever kind of intervention you think this is, trust me, it ain’t. I’m not gonna explain myself to you.” 

“I sort of got that. I just thought you might like to know that while you two have been playing odd couple, your real friends, like Cas, like the angel you stabbed, are out there right now risking their asses to help you win this fight. So please, when you say you don’t want to explain anything to me, don’t. I get it. And I also get that Metatron has to go. And I know you’re our best shot to do that.” 

Sam goes on to explain that Cas and Gadreel are in heaven trying to destroy the angel tablet so Metatron gets powered down. Dean agrees to work with Sam, and Crowley scampers off. 

They track Metatron down to a homeless encampment. “You good?” Sam asks, eyeing Dean warily once they’re close. 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Dean answers. 

Sam gives him a searching look and hands over the first blade. Dean closes his eyes for a second, feeling that familiar rush. He manages to put it on hold for a moment, though. “Listen, Sammy, about, you know, the last couple months…” 

“I know,” Sam saves him, “So before we find something else to fight about, are you ready to gut this bitch?” 

Dean shoots him a sad smile, then punches Sam in the jaw, knocking him out. Dean carefully arranges Sam’s hand on his chest. “Sorry, little brother. It’s not your fight,” he whispers. 

He pats Sam’s face, then he lets the blade direct him. He goes to find Metatron. 

He approaches Metatron in an abandoned warehouse. In typical cliché villain style, he prattles on with his monologue. Dean humors him; he can grant a dying wish. Plus, Cas and Gadreel can probably use the extra time. Once Dean gets tired of Metatron’s never ending stream of bullshit, he interrupts. “Yeah. You see, the only thing you’ve said that went into my ear was you’re going to die.” 

“Oh, fine, we’ll fight. I don’t know what you expect is going to come of all this,” Metatron complains. 

Dean lunges forward with a shout, but Metatron sidesteps him and grabs his blade hand. Dean uses his other hand to give him a good uppercut. 

Metatron steps out of reach. “Wow, that big blade and that douchey tribal tat sure gave you some super juice. Whoo!” 

Dean rushes forward again, but Metatron flings him into the wall. Dean can’t even feel any of his typical aches until the blade gets knocked loose from his hand. He scrambles for it, but Metatron sends him flying again. Dean can feel his heart beating in his fingertips, and spots are dancing at the edge of his vision. Metatron kicks the blade well out of Dean’s reach and stomps on Dean’s arm. 

Dean grunts in pain. He struggles to get loose, but it’s no use. “So you took Abaddon’s scalp, then you figured you’d take on little old me. What could go wrong? Newsflash, you’re powered by the bone of a jackass. Next time, try the word of God.” 

Metatron gives Dean a sound kick in the side. Dean rolls over in pain. He manages to climb to his feet, but Metatron grabs his shirt collar and delivers relentless punches. Dean’s pretty sure one of his eyes is swelling shut, and at some point, he’s definitely bitten his tongue. Metatron takes Dean’s face in his hands, forcing Dean to make eye contact. Dean doesn’t even have the energy to work up enough bloody saliva to spit at him. Metatron punches him again, and Dean falls to the ground. His head tracks Metatron’s movements. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees the first blade. He opens his hand and wills it to come to him. 

Just as his fingers make contact with the blade, he feels a sharp pain. He gasps as it becomes harder to breathe. He turns his head and sees a knife sticking out from chest. Metatron twists the hilt. Dean grunts in agony. Metatron pulls it out, and Dean can feel blood pouring out of the wound. _Everyone knows you should leave whatever you got stabbed with alone, _Dean thinks woozily. His head thumps against the wall. Distantly, he can hear someone yelling. He falls on to his side, his cheek thumping against concrete. It smells like motor oil, and Dean is vaguely comforted. Out of nowhere, Sam appears. Sam drags him back up into a sitting position. Dean groans. “Hey, hey, hey,” Sam soothes. Sam turns his gaze to Metatron, and lunges for him with an angel blade. 

Suddenly, the warehouse starts to rumble, and Metatron disappears. “Jesus, Dean, you idiot,” Sam says, running back to his side and ripping at Dean’s shirt to make something to staunch the blood flow. 

“Sammy, you got to get out of here before he comes back,” Dean says weakly. 

“Shut up. Just save your energy, all right? We’ll stop the bleeding, we’ll find a doctor, we’ll find a spell. You’re going to be okay.” 

Dean’s head starts to loll to the side, but he feels Sam moving his hand to put pressure on the wound. Dean tries to focus on that. “Listen to me. It’s better this way,” Dean gets out. 

“What?” Sam asks incredulously. 

“The mark. It’s making me into something I don’t wanna be.” 

Panicked, Sam replies, “Don’t worry about the mark. We’ll figure it out later. Just hold on.” 

Sam arranges Dean’s arm around his shoulder and pulls Dean to his feet. “What are you trying to do, kill me?” Dean groans. 

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam says, his voice taking on the higher pitch it has when he’s worried. 

“What happened with you being okay with this?” 

“I lied.” 

Dean knows all too well how that goes. “Ain’t that a bitch?” he asks fuzzily. 

Sam keeps supporting him as they stumble along, but there’s a permanent stitch in Dean’s side, and he’s gasping for air. “Sam. Hold up. I got something to say to you.” 

Sam props him up. “What?” 

Dean looks into Sam’s tear filled eyes. He tries for one more wry grin, but he’s not sure how well it translates with all the blood. “I’m proud of us,” Dean says, and then his body won’t listen to him anymore and he slumps forward into Sam’s arms. At the end of the day, that’s a pretty good place to be. 

He’s floating in some of his pleasant memories when he hears a voice through all the fog. “Let’s go take a howl at that moon.” 

His eyes open. 

_Come what may, every day_

_I’m gonna leave you_

_Gonna go away_

_It was really, really good_

_You made me happy every single day_

_But now_

_I’ve got to go away_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought! (:  
(I really love Rexford and outsider pov, so I also wrote Rexford from Nora's pov if you're interested in checking that out: [A Series of Miscommunicated Events)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19811014)


	3. The Demon Days of Summer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The weeks pass in a blur of booze, karaoke, girls, guys, and Crowley himself. Dean isn’t too picky. The more bodies he has to lose himself in, the less he has to think about finding someone to slake the mark’s thirst. Of course, eventually the call always becomes too strong. Crowley’s good for helping him out on those days. 
> 
> The days passing by are marked by texts from Cas. Sam had given up on reaching Dean by his phone a couple days in, but Cas sends him a text every day. Dean never replies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> despite the chapter title, deanmon gets about as much attention as the show gives him  
warnings: moc related themes, this chapter earns this fic its explicit rating, and also canon compliant minor character death /:

Crowley is the first thing Dean sees, along with registering the surge of power rushing through him from the first blade. He’s back in the bunker, somehow. The last thing he remembers is being in that warehouse with Sam. “Did you heal me?” Dean asks groggily. 

“Not quite,” Crowley hedges, “Something even better.” 

Dean claws at his shirt and rips up the sleeve, but the mark of Cain is still there. “What the hell, Crowley. Just tell me what’s going on.” 

“Turns out you can’t exactly die because of the mark. You’re a demon,” Crowley says in a softer voice, like he knows this news isn’t going to go over well. 

Dean takes a new stock of his body. He unbuttons his shirt and traces his fingers over his chest, but his wound is gone. Now that Crowley mentions it, he does feel strange. Everything had seemed amplified before, but now it’s all muted. He can barely muster up the feelings to be upset at Crowley for this latest development. “So, what now?”

Before they creep out of the bunker, Dean leaves Sam a note. _Let me go, Sammy. _He doubts it will do a whole lot, but at least he can say he tried. Dean fishes his phone out of his pocket and disables the GPS. “Let’s go.” 

It takes about ten minutes for Sam to start blowing up his phone. Dean lets them all go to voicemail. It’s another hour before Cas starts to call incessantly, too. Dean sighs. He shuts off his phone. They’ll give up sooner or later. 

The weeks pass in a blur of booze, karaoke, girls, guys, and Crowley himself. Dean isn’t too picky. The more bodies he has to lose himself in, the less he has to think about finding someone to slake the mark’s thirst. Of course, eventually the call always becomes too strong. Crowley’s good for helping him out on those days. 

The days passing by are marked by texts from Cas. Sam had given up on reaching Dean by his phone a couple days in, but Cas sends him a text every day. Dean never replies. 

After Sam captures him, and when the black dissipates from his eyes, he looks up and sees Sam and Cas looking anxiously at him. “You look worried, fellas,” he jokes weakly. 

Sam steps forward with his flask and splashes holy water on Dean. There’s no sizzling, just Dean’s annoyed face. “Welcome back, Dean,” Sam smiles. 

Cas rushes forward and grips Dean’s arm. He works on undoing the bindings. Dean hangs his head, not meeting Cas’s eyes. Cas never gave up on him throughout this whole thing, but maybe he should have. Dean did some really fucking awful things. “Dean,” Cas says softly, “Are you okay?” 

“Fine,” Dean answers with a weak smile. 

Cas finishes releasing him, and he pulls up on Dean’s arm. Dean stands up but stumbles. Cas is there to lean on. Sam watches anxiously then comes forward to Dean’s other side. Dean takes a couple of steps, then pushes Cas away. He doesn’t deserve the help. Cas looks at him curiously, but he takes the hint and walks away. Dean leans more heavily on Sam and directs him to his bedroom. Once there, Dean sits down heavily on his bed. “You want to talk?” Sam offers. 

Dean shakes his head wordlessly. Sam offers him a wry smile. “You know I’m here,” he says before walking away, closing Dean’s door. 

Dean lays back and closes his eyes, but flashes of blood and gore won’t let him sleep. He gets up to sit at his desk. He opens a drawer, and his fingers find his stack of photos. Their edges are worn, so Dean tries not to worry at them too much. 

There’s a knock at his door. “Yeah,” Dean answers. 

Cas cracks open the door then walks further inside. “You look terrible,” he says dryly. 

Dean laughs. “You know, it wouldn’t kill you to lie every now and again.” 

“No, it wouldn’t kill me. I just, you—” Cas fumbles. 

“Forget it. Well, you on the other hand, you are looking good. So, are you back?” An idea flashes through Dean’s head. He could sorely use some comfort right about now. 

That idea is shot when Cas says, “At least temporarily. It’s a long story: Crowley, stolen grace. There’s a female outside in the car.” 

_There’s a female outside in the car?_

“Another time,” Cas says. 

Dean’s thrown off his rhythm a little, but he recovers and quickly sobers. “Well, thank you, for, uh, stepping in when you did. Anyway, what did Sam say? Does he want a divorce?” 

“I’m sure Sam knows that whatever you said or what you did, it wasn’t really you. It certainly wasn’t all you.” 

“I tried to kill him, Cas,” Dean says, images of trying to find Sam in the red-flashing bunker playing through his head. 

Like he said, he did a lot of shit while he was a demon. 

“Dean. You two have been through so much. Look, you’re brothers. It’d take a lot more than trying to kill Sam with a hammer to make him want to walk away,” Cas comforts. 

“You realize how screwed up our lives are that that even makes sense?” 

Cas laughs. Dean’s missed the sound. “I’m glad you’re here, man.” 

Cas starts to walk away, but then pauses. “Hey, maybe you should take some time before you get back to work. Allow yourself to heal. It’s, I don’t know. The timing might be right. Heaven and hell, they seem reasonably back in order. It’s quiet out there.” 

Cas flashes him a small smile. Dean returns it. “Thanks, Cas. For everything.” 

Dean tries to take Cas’s advice. He does. But he’s going stir crazy. He sees Sam looking at him worriedly, but Dean can’t even tone it down. He needs to kill something. Dean finds a case. “Look, Sam, what we’re doing here, it’s good, okay? But I need to work… I need this.” 

Sam relents. “But if things go sideways, I mean, like, an inch, you gotta give me the heads up.” 

They manage some cases without Dean hulking out. In fact, the most alarming thing that happens is the production of a play based on _Supernatural. _“We do explore the nature of Destiel in act two,” Marie, the director, tells him. 

Dean groans internally. Just what he needs. If Sam’s prodding wasn’t enough, now he’s going to have hundreds of people looking at his romantic life with way too much of a fine toothed comb for Dean’s liking. 

When he tells Sam about it, Sam says, “I don’t understand.” 

Dean’s relieved. Maybe Sam isn’t on to him as much as he had thought. 

“I mean, shouldn’t it be Deastiel?” 

“Really? That’s your issue with this?” 

Sam smirks at him. Okay, so Sam knows. Whatever. Dean’s not going to confirm anything until he’s good and ready. “No, of course it’s not my issue,” Sam says, “You know, how about Sastiel? Samstiel?” 

“Okay, alright. You know what? You’re gonna do that thing, where you just shut the hell up, forever.” 

Sam just laughs at him, but Dean is oddly comforted. “CasDean?” Sam asks. 

“Shut your face. Get in the car.” 

Dean thought he had been doing a good job controlling the mark, but Sam is put on high alert when Dean shoots, and shoots, and shoots a shapeshifter. 

“What was that?” Sam asks him. 

“I don’t know. Target practice?” 

“Come on, man, I’m serious. You sure it wasn’t, I don’t know, demon residue or something to with the mark or—” 

“No. No, none of that,” Dean protests. 

“Right, look, man, I gotta be honest…” Sam starts. 

“Oh my god, Sam. It was my first kill since I’ve been back. You know, I got a little anxious. I wanted to make sure it was done right. Plain and simple.” 

Dean wishes he could believe himself. 

Dean’s had a few weeks to stew on Cas’s supposed girl waiting in his car. Dean downloads a dating app. 

He promptly deletes it after he uses it for the first time and finds himself in the middle of a demon prostitution ring. Dean sighs. Fucking typical. 

Dean’s phone is ringing. It’s Cas. Dean raises his eyebrows. Their contact has been pretty limited since Cas left the bunker. “Cas, hey,” he greets. 

“Dean, I have an emergency,” Cas says, and any lingering bitterness Dean’s feeling flies out the window. 

“Where are you? I’ll be there as soon as I can.” 

Cas tells him a location and a sincere, “Thank you, Dean.” 

“No problem,” he answers before he hangs up and rushes off to get Sam. 

“This is why you called us? This is your emergency?” Dean complains after Cas tells them what he’s been up to with Claire.

Dean rolls his eyes through Cas explaining that he broke her out of the group home she was at, followed by Claire running away from him. “No, Cas! An emergency is a dead body, okay? Or a wigged out angel, or the apocalypse, take three. Some chick bolting out on you is not an emergency. That’s every Friday night for Sam,” Dean says in mock annoyance, but mainly he’s glad that none of those things happened. 

His mind had definitely came up with some pretty choice worst case scenarios, so to say Dean is relieved is an understatement. 

“This isn’t just some chick,” Cas protests, “I’m responsible for her.” 

Dean sighs. Cas is too big hearted for his own good, and yes, that most certainly includes what seems like his infinite forgiveness when it comes to Dean. Dean sends Sam to the group home to ask around and tells him that Dean and Cas are going to stay there, at the restaurant Cas was at Claire with. Mainly, Dean just wants an opportunity to talk to Cas face to face. 

After the waiter takes their order, Dean asks the question he’s been practically vibrating to get an answer to. “So, the night you and Sam, uh, cured me you said you had a girl waiting in your car. What was that all about?” 

Maybe he can’t hide his jealousy as much as he thinks as he can because Cas raises his eyebrows. “It wasn’t like _that, _Dean. It was just Hannah.” 

“Just Hannah. Hmm,” Dean says, but he’s comforted more than he lets on. 

They’ve just been served their food when Cas turns to Dean and asks him, “Is ketchup a vegetable?” 

“Hell, yes,” Dean answers, “All right, so spill. What’s with the family reunion?” 

Dean really is curious as to why Cas is concerned about Claire now after like five years since he last saw her. 

“I don’t know. I’ve just been—thinking about people. I’ve helped some, but I’ve hurt some.” 

“So you’re having a midlife crisis.” 

“Well, I’m extremely old. I think I’m entitled.” 

“Cas, listen to me. There’s some stuff you just got to let go. Okay? The people you let down, the ones you can’t save, you’ve got to forget about them for your own good.” 

“Is that what you do?” Cas asks skeptically. 

“That’s the opposite of what I do. But I ain’t exactly a role model.” 

“That’s not true,” Cas denies. 

Dean stares at Cas for a beat in shock, then he scoffs. 

Cas fixes him with an intent look. “How are you, Dean?” he asks sincerely. 

“Fine.”

He is so not ready to open that box of worms, but Cas gives him a stern look. “No, you’re not.” 

“Yeah, well, I lost the black eyes, so that’s a plus. But I still have this,” Dean says, gesturing at the mark of Cain. 

“Is it still affecting you?” 

Dean thinks back to the terrible, bloody dream he had the night before. It was so detailed, and it felt so real in the moment… “Dean?” he hears Cas say. 

He blinks and refocuses his attention. Cas looks worried, and Dean wonders how many times he said Dean’s name. “Cas, I need you to promise me something.” 

“Of course,” Cas agrees readily. 

“If I go dark side, you have to take me out.” 

Cas furrows his brow. “What do you mean?” 

“Knife me. Smite me. Throw me into the freaking sun, whatever. And don’t let Sam get in the way, because he’ll try. I can’t go down that road again, man. I can’t be that thing again.” 

“Dean,” Cas protests, looking devastated. 

“Cas, promise me,” Dean insists. 

“I… can’t. I could never do that. If that happens, we’ll just cure you again,” Cas says with conviction. 

“I don’t want to hurt any more innocent people.”

“You won’t.”

“The only way I’ll know that for sure is if you’ll just do this one thing for me!” 

Cas just gives him a glare and shakes his head. Dean sighs. Of course, Cas has to be the one person who is more stubborn than Dean is. 

They eventually track Claire back to a place she’s staying with one of the other boys from the group home and a man named Randy. Considering Randy convinced Claire to try to rob a gas station, Dean’s sure he’s a real fixer upper. When they burst into the house, there’s already men there, loan sharks, to collect what Randy owes them. There’s a scream, and Cas runs upstairs to retrieve Claire. He comes back down the steps, gripping Claire by the arm. “Get her out of here,” Dean says, his own gun still pointed at the ringleader of the men. 

Sam goes with Cas and Claire. Dean turns to follow, but a glass bottle smashes into the back of his head. Dean falls to the floor, a gash in his hair bleeding freely. The men surround him. Dean looks up at them. “You guys don’t want to do this,” he warns. 

One of the men laughs, and then kicks Dean in the face. 

The next thing Dean remembers, Sam is kneeling in front of him, shaking his shoulders. “Dean!” Sam says urgently. 

Dean looks at him with glazed eyes. Dean dimly takes in his surroundings, thinking the scene looks an awful lot like his dream. Dean notes Cas standing there, looking horrified. He has Claire pulled against his chest. He hopes Claire didn’t get a good look. “Dean,” Sam says again, “Tell me you had to do this.” 

“I… didn’t mean to,” Dean admits. 

“No. Tell me it was them or you!” 

Dean looks around one more time, then he drops his eyes in shame. “I wish I could tell you yes, Sammy.” 

When Dean walks out of the house, still covered in blood, Cas and Claire are gone. On the one hand, he wanted to hammer home his point and get Cas to promise to kill him if this ever happened again, but on the other, he’s relieved he doesn’t have to face them. He barely notices the concerned looks Sam keeps shooting him until he goes to get in the driver’s side, and Sam says, “Absolutely not. Get some sleep.” 

Dean isn’t happy, but he allows himself to be relegated to the passenger seat. He tries to let the familiar scent of the car’s leather soothe him to sleep, but he’s too scared to shut his eyes. He leans his head against the cool glass of the window and tries to calm his ragged breaths. 

Cas sends him several texts over the next few days, mainly of the _are you okay_ variety. Dean doesn’t answer any of them, and eventually Cas shows up in person. Dean is laying on his bed when he hears Sam talking to Cas in the hallway. “He hasn’t come out of there in two days,” he hears Sam say, “He won’t even eat.” 

Dean rolls over on his other side and tries to ignore them, but there’s a knock at his door. “Go away,” he says. 

A weight settles on his bed, and a hand finds his hip. Dean turns to face Cas. “What do you want?” Dean grumbles. 

“You weren’t answering any of my texts.” Cas scowls. 

“What do you want me to say, Cas? That I can’t sleep, can’t eat, can’t do anything without fucking losing my head?” 

“Dean, I’m just worried about you.” 

“Join the club, buddy.” 

When Dean finally emerges from his room, he finds Sam and Cas talking about him in the library. He pauses at the doorway to hear them better. He hears Cas say, “Well, Claire thought Randy was kind. And for that, she loved him. Shows how little kindness there was in her life. You know, whatever Randy did, he didn’t deserve—” 

Sam cuts him off, “No, yeah, I know. I hear you. Dean’s had to kill humans before. We both have. But that was—” 

Dean finds his feet propelling him forward, so he can join the conversation. “That was what? A massacre? Because that’s exactly what it was. That there was a time I was a hunter, not a stone cold killer? You can say it. You’re not wrong. I crossed a line. Guys, this thing has got to go,” Dean says, tracing the raised scar. 

“That won’t be easy,” Cas says. 

“Well, then burn it off! Cut it off!” 

“It’s more than just a physical thing. It will take a very powerful force to remove the effect.” 

Sam chimes in, “Dean, we’ve been through all the lore. There’s nothing.” 

“This reaches back to the time of creation. It may predate the lore. If we had the demon tablet, maybe,” Cas says. 

“You said it was missing.” 

“It is. There may be another way,” Cas says hesitantly. 

“What is it?” Dean growls. 

“Well, who do we know that wrote the tablets?” 

“Cas, no, we are not letting Metadouche out,” Dean protests. 

“This might be the only way,” Sam insists. 

Dean pauses, weighing his hate for Metatron with his need to get this fucking thing off of his arm as soon as possible. “Fine.”

Cas helps them arrange to hold Metatron in their dungeon, so they can get some answers out of him. Dean’s heart rate speeds up when Metatron tells them they’re going to need the first blade to get rid of the mark. “This is the single worst idea I’ve ever heard,” Sam complains. 

They meet with Crowley to tell him about their plan. “Just retrieve it and hang onto it until we need it,” Dean says. 

“You, Moose, you’re the sane one. Are you onboard with this?” Crowley asks in disbelief. 

Sam hesitates, but nods. “Insane. You want me to procure the most dangerous weapon on the planet for Dean Winchester, the man who goes mental every time he touches it?” Crowley roars. 

“Look, if this plan works, it’s better for you. When the mark is gone, the blade can’t operate,” Sam says. 

“It can’t operate anyway. It’s hidden,” Crowley counters. 

“Okay, the blade might be powered down, but the mark is not. I’m doing everything I can to keep it together,” Dean says. 

“Fine. I’ll do it,” Crowley sighs. 

Dean calls Cas and gives him the cliffnotes of what Metatron told them and their meeting with Crowley. He figures since Cas was the one that got Metatron for them, they should at least keep him in the loop. Dean’s surprised when a couple hours later Cas comes bursting into the bunker. “The first blade is back in play and Crowley is the one getting it?” Cas practically squeaks, “I don’t mean to be an alarmist, but—” 

“Well, you know us. When we screw ourselves we like to go whole hog,” Dean says with a wink. 

“This would be the Crowley who let the blade turn Dean into a demon?” Cas asks. 

Dean rolls his eyes. “I don’t have a choice, okay? I don’t do this, I’m down the rabbit hole. Hear evil, see evil, do evil. The trifecta.” 

“Cas, look, let us worry about this. You’ve got enough on your plate with Claire,” Sam says. 

“Claire’s gone.” 

Dean looks up in alarm. “Gone where?” Sam asks. 

“I don’t know. I should have stopped her. I am so certain she is destined for more trouble and disappointment. She is so… full of rage.” 

“Listen, man, if I could make it better, I would,” Dean says. 

“It’s actually why I’m here. I was hoping you might reach out to her.” 

“Me?” Dean asks in surprise. “I’m probably the last person she would want to hear from.” 

With a completely straight face, Cas says, “I thought there would be a connection. One extremely messed up human to another, you could explain why you murdered her only friend.” 

Dean snorts. “Well, when you put it like that.” 

“All I know is she won’t talk to me. I thought if she understood the kind of man Randy was and the danger she was in, she might,” Cas trails off. 

“What the hell, why not,” Dean decides. “Long shots seem to be the theme around here. I’m going to go make a sandwich,” Dean announces and heads toward the kitchen. 

“I’ll text you her number. I like texting. Emoticons?” He shoots Dean a pointed look. 

Dean sighs and makes his retreat. He knows Cas probably gets worried when Dean doesn’t answer his texts, but he can always call Sam for an update. Dean doesn’t trust himself to do a whole heck of a lot anymore, and interactions with Cas is one of them. Cas deserves infinitely better than Dean could ever be, even without the mark. Dean finds the bottle of whiskey he had managed to successfully hide from Sam. 

That feeling is reinforced when Dean can’t even stop himself from almost killing Metatron. Sam has to drag him away, and then Cas takes Metatron back to heaven. “Cas, this won’t happen again,” Sam pleads, but Cas replies, “I gave my word Metatron would be returned intact. I have fences to mend in heaven, and as is, I have a lot to explain.” 

Sam comes to him. “I’ve been thinking. Cain lived with the mark for years. Cas said the mark would need a powerful force to remove it, and maybe part of that powerful force has to be you. Maybe there’s a part of you that wants to give in. And maybe you have to fight that, you know?” 

“Yeah,” Dean nods. 

He wants to be better. 

Claire calls him. “Maybe it’s only fair to hear your side of it. I mean, Castiel seemed to trust you a lot.” 

“Yeah, okay. Where do you want to meet?” 

They set up a time, and Dean goes. Dean sits on a bench to wait for her. Dean’s not really sure what’s going on, when all of a sudden there’s someone rushing him with a bat and someone else with an axe. Dean ducks the swing of the bat and knocks down the guy with the axe. He picks the axe up off the ground. “No!” Claire shrieks. 

Dean swings the axe into a park bench as the two people sprint away. He turns to look at Claire. Claire won’t meet his eyes. She turns and starts walking along the road. Dean calls Cas. 

Cas calls him again later. “I talked to Claire. She’s—striking out on her own.” 

“Is she going to be okay?” Dean asks. 

“I think so,” Cas says. “Dean, thank you for talking to her. I really appreciate it.” 

“I don’t feel like I did a whole lot.” 

“Hopefully you made her more cautious about who she trusts. I think she just needs some kindness from people who aren’t expecting anything from her.” 

“I tried. And I’m trying so hard now, but the mark, I can’t stop it— what do I do, Cas?” 

“I’m sorry. I wish I could help more,” Cas says in frustration, “But you can’t stop fighting it, Dean. We will find a way to get that off your arm, but you cannot give up, do you understand?” 

“Where do I even start?” 

“Maybe all the drinking would be a good place,” Cas suggests softly. 

Dean knows he’s right, but it feels like the drinking is the only thing that seems to numb his violent thoughts. “I’ll give it a try,” he whispers. 

“Good night, Dean,” Cas says. 

_It feels good to have you back again_

_And I know that one day, baby, it’s really going to grow_

_We’re going to go walking through the park every day_

After he gets past the withdrawal, his hands stop shaking. 

It lasts all of two weeks. Charlie comes back from Oz with herself split into two parts: Dark Charlie and Good Charlie. Dean _knows_ whatever he does to one will happen to the other, but he can’t stop himself when he gets into a fight with Dark Charlie. “Dean! Dean!” Sam calls. Dark Charlie is on the ground underneath Dean, her face bloodied and bruised. Sam lays Good Charlie next to her. The image of them side by side, looking small and broken, is something that haunts Dean even after the two of them join together, and Charlie sits up. 

Dean turns back to drinking in full force and refuses to leave the bunker. It’s a week before Sam can convince him to go out for a case, even though they’re trying a new lead, and Charlie is going after some old grimoire called _The Book of the Damned_. It sounds like a party.

Dean is ready to be finished with the ceaseless search for a cure when they finally get a lead on Cain. Cain is wiping out entire families of his descendants. His last vic was Tommy Tolliver, but it’s impossible to know who he’s going to go after next. It’s not like ancestry.com traces all the way back to Cain and Abel. That is, until they find out Tommy has a son. “Is the kid still alive?” Dean asks. 

“As of an hour ago, yeah. He updated his status. But I mean, come on. It’s a kid. You don’t really think Cain would…” Sam trails off. 

“Yes, he would,” Cas says with conviction. 

“You heard Cas, Sam. It’s a fire sale. Everyone must go.” Dean turns to walk away. 

Sam stops him. “Where are you going?” 

“We know where Cain’s gonna be. The kid’s in danger.”

“Okay, so what, we track him down, and then what?” 

“Then I’ll do what I have to do,” Dean says simply, “I’ll kill Cain.” 

Dean pretends not to see the worried look Sam shoots him. 

It’s late, but Dean can’t sleep with the mark singing to him. It’s like it knows he’s going after Cain tomorrow. Dean’s trying to brace himself, because he’s sure whatever he’s feeling now is going to get a hell of a lot worse after he’s reunited with the first blade and comes face to face with Cain. 

He throws back his blanket and sits up. He slides out of bed and walks down the hall, his fingertips trailing on the walls as he passes. He’s headed to the kitchen to look for a drink when he notices a light on in the library. He veers in that direction and finds Cas sitting and poring over a book related to the Mark of Cain. It looks like he has every book the Men of Letters has on the subject piled high beside him. Dean would know, he’s looked through all of them what seems like a hundred times. 

“Hey,” he says from the doorway. 

Cas looks up, startled.

“Why aren’t you asleep?” Cas asks, tilting his head. 

Dean gulps, then makes a decision. “I couldn’t relax. But maybe you could help?” Dean asks, barely believing the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Dean,” Cas says in what sounds like a warning. 

“Cas, come on. This might be a last night on earth type of deal. You really going to leave me hanging?” 

“Hmm,” Cas sounds unimpressed, but he pushes back his chair and stands up. 

Cas walks right up into Dean’s personal space and puts his hands on Dean’s chest. “You’ve been freezing me out lately.” 

Dean tries hard not to deflate. “I know, and I’m sorry. It’s just—Actually, you know what, this was a stupid idea. Night, Cas.” Dean turns to leave, but Cas speaks up, “Wait. What were you going to say?” 

Dean sighs but turns around to look at Cas. “You deserve better. I can barely think straight most days, my hands won’t stop shaking, and I’m way past functional alcoholic at this point,” Dean laughs mirthlessly. 

Cas steps up to him and puts a hand on Dean’s jaw. “Don’t you think I get a say in what I deserve?” 

“I was a demon,” Dean protests. 

“I don’t care. You’re not anymore.” 

“I didn’t answer any of your texts for two months.” 

Cas rolls his eyes. “You know, I found your journal while you were gone.” 

Dean’s heart stops for a second at the mention of the journal. He had noticed it was missing. He’s not sure if he’s glad it was Cas who found it, or if he would have rather Sam had found it and done the right thing to protect his brother’s dignity, like burning it. “Cas,” Dean starts. 

“Stop trying to think of reasons not to do this, you assbutt,” Cas snaps. 

Dean would laugh, but Cas is tilting his head up to give Dean a gentle kiss. He pulls back. “Dean, I want this, and if you do, too, then that’s reason enough.” 

“Your sanity been tested lately?” Dean jokes weakly. 

“Stop being so damn self deprecating. You’re the best ma—” Cas growls before Dean shuts him up with a kiss. Cas melts into it, his hands moving to tug at the short hairs at the nape of Dean’s neck. Dean opens his mouth and licks at the deam of Cas’s lips to urge him to do the same when Cas pulls back again. “You okay?” Dean checks in. 

“Fine. I just have to tell you something first.” 

Trying not to be too alarmed at that statement, Dean allows Cas to tug him over to a chair. Cas drags a chair right next to the one Dean is in and sits down so their thighs are pressed together. Dean relishes the warmth. He grabs one of Cas’s hand and folds both of his over it. 

Cas takes a breath. “Dean, I’ve never told you this, but after I got out of purgatory, Naomi made me kill hundreds of you, one after the other.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows in shock, but Cas keeps going, “I couldn’t even raise a hand against the first one, but Naomi dragged me back to her chair to ‘tweak my programming,’” Cas makes air quotes with the hand Dean isn’t holding, “She sent me back out, but I couldn’t hurt the second one either. She kept dragging me back until I barely even remembered my own name,” Cas whispers. 

Dean squeezes Cas’s hand, finding his own eyes filling with tears at what Cas went through. “Eventually, it worked, and then she made me kill you so many times,” Cas says helplessly. 

“Hey, it’s okay, shh,” Dean soothes.

He presses a kiss to Cas’s cheek. He wills Cas not to cry because if he does, Dean’s going to lose it. “Why tell me now?” Dean finally asks.

“When we were in that crypt, Naomi was screaming at me to kill you, just like I had done before, but I couldn’t. None of those copies ever had a soul that shines as brightly as yours. I missed seeing it so much while I was human. And, Dean, I know you think you’re- blemished, but your soul is just as beautiful now as it ever was. There’s not a lot you could do to tarnish it.” 

Dean finds himself getting out of his chair and dropping to his knees in front of Cas because the other option is to reply, and Dean doesn’t even know where to start. Cas looks down curiously at him as Dean slides a finger up his inseam, but Cas isn’t done. “When I was in heaven, destroying the angel tablet, Metatron showed up at the end. He said I was draping myself in the flag of heaven, but I was really just doing it for you. Dean, I think he was right.” Cas’s breath hitches as Dean slowly unzips his slacks. 

Dean mouths at the swell in Cas’s white boxers, getting the fabric damp, but Cas pushes Dean’s head back a little. Dean sits back on his heels. “You saying you don’t want this?” 

Cas points a finger at him. “I did not say that. I’m just not done, and you apparently need the help in recognizing your own self-worth.” 

“That’s not true,” Dean denies pointlessly. He’s not fooling either of them. 

He strokes a hand down Cas’s thigh as he continues. “Metatron told me you were dead, but I didn’t believe him. You’ve overcome so many odds. Then, Sam called me, and he said it was true. Before I could even see your body, it had disappeared, and you had left that damn note. Wasn’t I worth a note?” Cas asks with a note of genuine distress in his voice. 

“Maybe I didn’t want _you_ to let me go,” Dean says as he pushes up on Cas’s thighs until he gets the hint and lifts them, so Dean can pull his pants and boxers down. 

“You know, Sam would kill us if he knew your bare ass was on this chair. This is his spot,” Dean says conversationally as he plants a wet kiss on Cas’s inner thigh, inhaling Cas’s musky scent. 

Cas’s cock twitches in response before Cas replies, “Please do not bring your brother into this.” 

Dean takes his advice and stops talking. He takes the head of Cas’s cock into his mouth, sucking and kitten licking until it reaches its full hardness. He appreciates the velvet smoothness and the bitter taste of precum. He closes his eyes, relaxing in the knowledge that he’s safe with Cas. 

Cas’s hands find the back of Dean’s head. Dean goes further down the shaft, but he gags a little and pulls back. He brings his hands up to stroke at the base of Cas’s cock, spreading saliva up it to aid in the process. Cas lets out a quiet moan, but Dean’s confident he can do better than that. He tries to relax his throat and swallows Cas down as much as he can. He begins bobbing his head and stroking near the base in tandem. Dean loves the feeling of Cas’s coarse curls nestled around his cock. 

Dean keeps this up for several minutes, his jaw starting to ache deliciously, until Cas’s hands clutch tighter at Dean’s hair, and he gasps. “Dean,” Cas groans in a wrecked voice. Dean feels Cas’s thighs tense up, so he pulls off but jacks him even faster. Cas throws his head back as Dean thumbs Cas’s slit. “Fuck,” Cas moans breathlessly, and it might be the hottest thing Dean’s ever heard in his life. 

Dean gives one last twist of his wrist, and Cas is coming, some of it spurting onto Dean’s shirt. His eyes look a little glazed over, but he gamely pulls Dean up in his lap to kiss him. Cas snakes his hand down between them and presses it to the bulge he finds. Cas plunges his hand down into Dean’s boxers, making Dean let out a loud moan. Cas kisses him again, muffling any noises Dean makes. 

Cas’s hand job technique might lack finesse, but he has a lot of enthusiasm, and Dean is already hopelessly turned on. When Cas finds an extra sensitive spot on the underside of Dean’s cock, Dean lets out a whimper. Cas gets the hint and makes sure his thumb rubs over the area with every stroke of his fist. Dean loses track of how long Cas strokes up and down his shaft, squeezing his eyes shut and letting the sensation overtake him. Dean opens his eyes and gasps as his orgasm washes over him. Dean presses his chin down on top of Cas’s head, and Cas squeezes his arms around Dean tightly. Dean savors the feeling for a moment before becoming eager to get out of his damp boxers and splattered shirt. Dean climbs off of Cas’s lap, pulling Cas with him. Dean looks at the come on the seat of the chair. “Sam’s really going to be pissed now,” he says with a smirk. 

Cas smiles at him and takes the edge of Dean’s robe to wipe it up. Dean sputters at him before Cas moves in for another kiss. Dean smiles against it despite himself. He pulls back and gives Cas a last peck on the lips. “Come to bed with me? You can bring your damn books,” Dean pretends to grumble, catching Cas’s hand and pulling him along. “You’re doing my laundry,” Dean says as they walk into his bedroom and shut the door. 

“Of course,” Cas answers. 

Dean sleeps soundly. 

_And if you say to me tomorrow_

_Oh, what fun it all would be_

_Then what’s to stop us, pretty baby_

_But what is and what should never be_

When Dean wakes up in the morning, his face is smushed against a warm, solid weight. Cas smiles down at him, setting down his book. “Good morning, Dean.” 

When Crowley hands Dean the blade, he feels calmer than he ever has while its power has vibrated through him. When he faces Cain and tells him the blade only feels like a means to an end, he isn’t lying. 

After he manages to kill Cain, the high of _rightness _he’s feeling leads him straight to Cas to hand over the blade for safekeeping. There’s no one else he’d rather trust. 

Even though Dean would say he’s done a pretty damn good job of keeping himself together since Cain, he still sees Sam giving him worried looks. When Dean comes to Sam with a case, Sam stares at him with wide eyes. “What, is this not weird enough for you?” Dean asks. 

“Well, yeah, it’s weird, but, um, I mean, we—” Sam fumbles. 

“Great. Ten minutes. I’ll meet you in the car.” 

Cass: _How are you, Dean?_

Dean: _I changed your name in my phone to Cass because your ass is magnificent_

Cass: _Thank you? I am still searching for a way to remove the mark. Don’t give up_

Dean_: Yeah ok. be safe_

The next case they go on is about mysterious suicides only linked by the fact that all of the victims went to the same church. They figure out it’s a spirit taking revenge on men who are unfaithful, so Dean decides to use himself as bait. They walk back into the church, and Dean gives a long look at the confessional before walking into it. 

“Hiya, Father,” Dean says as he slides onto the seat. 

“Pardon me?” the priest asks. 

“Pardon you? I thought it was the other way around,” Dean chuckles, “Uh, anyway, I just need to get some things off my chest.” 

“All right. Continue.” 

Dean lays down the groundwork of what their spirit needs to hear before the priest asks, “Is there anything else on your mind?” 

Dean hesitates. “What if I said… I didn’t want to die yet. You know, that I wasn’t ready?” 

“Are you expecting to?” 

“Always. You know, the life I live, the work I do, I pretty much just figured that that was all there was to me, you know? Tear around and jam the key in the ignition and haul ass until I run out of gas. I guess I just thought sooner or later, I’d go out the same way I live—pedal to the metal, and that’d be it.” 

“But now?” the priest prompts. 

“Now, um, recent events make me think I might be closer to that than I really thought. And, I don’t know, there’s things, there’s people, feelings, that I, uh, want to experience differently than I have before, or maybe even for the first time,” Dean says, his mind flashing to Cas unavoidably. 

In that moment, Dean thinks that he wants to be able to tell Cas he loves him, someday, and when he says it, he wants to be resolutely sure that it’s true. 

Dean: _I was thinking of you today, how are you?_

Cass: _Better than you, I’m sure_

Dean laughs outright. 

Dean_: Ouch, that’s harsh, man. _

But probably true. 

When they get back to the bunker, Sam tells him he’s off to Wichita to see some weird ass French movie. Whatever. Dean can be by himself without flying off the handle. He decides to go to the bar. 

He gets a plate of nachos, hustles some pool, and is in general having a nice evening before Rowena shows up. She sics the guys he hustled on him, and Dean knocks them unconscious. Then, Rowena tries to do some freaky spell on him, but apparently it doesn’t go as planned because Rowena looks at him and utters, “Not possible!” 

“What the hell are you doing here?” Dean asks. 

“Saving my son,” Rowena says, tilting her chin up. 

“Your son?” 

“Crowley.”

Honestly, what the fuck, but Rowena continues, interrupting his train of thought, “You’re a good influence on him. That’s why you need to die.” 

“Well, sorry your little light show didn’t work.” 

“Oh, I’ll try again.” 

“What, you think I’m just going to let you walk out of here?” Dean asks incredulously. 

“I think you’re a hero. You could have killed those men, but you didn’t because they’re innocent. Because you’re the good guy, and you want them to live, but the spell I cast will devour them from the inside out. I’m the only one who can save them. What’s it going to be, hero?” 

The mark is singing for Rowena’s blood, but he clamps down on the impulse and lets her go. It’d be pretty shitty if he was worse of a guy than the monster thought he was. 

He goes back to sit at the bar and finish his drink. Eventually Crowley shows up, and they have a little heart to heart. Dean does not mention that his mother looks younger than he does because he’s a nice guy like that. “Mother says the mark is just a curse, that it can be removed. Of course, she doesn’t know how,” Crowley says, and Dean lets the idea bounce around in his head. 

It’s a nice sentiment, one he desperately wants to believe is true. 

_Dean: There’s absolutely nothing on, so I was watching a boring ass documentary you would’ve liked_

It takes a while, but Cas eventually texts him back. 

Cass: _(:_

When Sam gets back, he asks Dean how his night was. Dean answers, “Played some pool. It was kind of boring.” 

The next day, Dean walks into the library as Sam is hanging up on telemarketer. “Yeah, uh, no one here by that name. Sorry,” he says, hanging up his phone before turning to Dean, “So, I’ve been checking through everything again, double checking and triple checking, and—” 

Dean cuts him off, “The mark is a curse.” 

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Sam huffs. 

“No, Sam, it’s an actual curse. Crowley told me. Or, Rowena told him after she tried and failed to kill me.” 

“What the hell happened?” 

“The mark protected me. Rowena doesn’t really have beef with me. She was pissed at Crowley because she thinks he’s going soft.” 

“She’s not wrong,” Sam shrugs. 

“Yeah, well, after he and Mommy Dearest got into a fight—” 

“Mommy Dearest?” Sam interrupts him. 

“Rowena is Crowley’s mother. So, then he came and told me what she had said. The mark is an actual curse. So, anyway, sorry. Probably should’ve told you that.” 

Sam’s phone rings, and Dean answers it only to hear Charlie’s panicked voice. “Charlie? What’s going on? Are you okay?” 

“Uh, I’m exhausted, and I’m bleeding, and I’m in a phone booth. A phone booth!” 

“Okay, hey, hey. Take a deep breath, kiddo. Me and Sam are both here. Tell me what happened. Why are you bleeding?” Dean asks, staying calm for both of their sakes. 

Charlie tells them how she found the Book of the Damned, and now she’s on the run from some creeps that seem to be tracking the book. Dean tells her where one of Bobby’s safe cabins is. “It’s not much, but there’s gear and lore books, stuff to keep you busy until we get there.” 

“Okay, bring snacks and every Men of Letters decoder ring there is. This book is old and scary, and I’ve never seen anything like it,” Charlie says. 

Dean finds a warded box that should stop the book from being tracked, and they set off to meet Charlie. 

When they open the door to the cabin, Dean can’t take his eyes off the book. It’s calling to him in a way that’s reminiscent to the first blade. Dean finds himself with the book in his hands, transfixed, and Sam shouting, “Dean? Dean!” 

Dean jerks and closes the book. “I don’t think it’s a good idea I touch this,” he says, handing it back to Charlie. 

Dean relegates himself to the couch. Charlie draws the tattoo the men following her all had and shows Dean before she and Sam try to make sense of the book. 

While they do that, Dean looks through some of the files they brought with them looking for the crest Charlie showed him. Eventually, he finds it and gulps. The Stynes, it says. He’s used to monsters being evil, but not regular old people being so monstrous, and it looks like they used the book to do it. He tells Sam and Charlie about his findings. “Okay, so they’re bad. So, what? We’ve faced worse,” Sam points out. 

“Sam, read the file. The way the book works is when you use it, there’s a negative reaction. I’m talking biblical negative. Dark magic always comes with a price. We know that. We’ve been down that road before.” 

“Well, let’s at least translate it, see what it says,” Charlie suggests. 

“You guys don’t understand. The book’s been calling out to me ever since I laid eyes on it, okay? Calling out to the mark. I can hear it like it’s alive. It wants me to use it, but not for good. Look, I wanted it to be the answer, too. I really did, but we have to get rid of that. Burn it, bury it, I don’t give a damn. We’ll just have to find another way to fix the mark.” 

Sam and Charlie try to convince him otherwise, but Dean won’t be swayed. “This is my cross to bear, Sam. Mine! That book is not the answer, and now we got to destroy it before it falls into the wrong hands, and that includes me. I’m gonna go for a drive. Charlie, we forgot to pick up your snacks.” 

Dean storms out of the cabin and into Baby. He cranks up the radio and drives to the gas station they passed on their way there. He can’t believe they’re willing to go through with this when they don’t even know what the consequences will be. Knowing their luck, it’ll be something ten times worse than dealing with the mark. He wishes Cas would answer his damn phone calls, so they could talk about this, but the best Dean gets is short texts. Dean pulls into the parking lot and gets out of the car. He goes into the store, wandering around and trying to think what Charlie would like. He takes his haul up to the register and notices the clerk has a familiar tattoo on his wrist when he’s putting Dean’s money in the register. Dean pulls his gun on the man, the Styne. “Don’t move. Hands where I can see them.” 

Styne throws Dean’s change at him, and that throws Dean off enough that another man comes up behind him and manages to trap Dean’s arms at his sides, knocking his gun away. “Let me guess,” he says, “You want to use the book to get that gift off your arm, don’t you? Power is wasted on the weak. Now, the book can remove the mark, but you mess around with that, and you’re going to do more harm than good.” 

Dean headbutts Styne and kicks the man holding him in the crotch. He dives for his gun and shoots, and shoots, until the man finally collapses. Dean looks around frantically, but Styne is gone. “Fuck, fuck,” he chants and sprints out to Baby. 

He makes it back to the cabin in record time. He bursts in the door, and Charlie asks, “What’s going on?” 

“The Stynes, they found me. Those douches are all jacked up, too. I emptied a full clip into one of them before the son of a bitch went down,” Dean says, throwing a cup of holy oil into the fire. 

“Dean, what are you doing with the holy oil?” Sam asks. 

“There is a cure for the mark in the book, but it comes at a price. We have to destroy it.” 

“Are you sure about this?” 

“It’s calling to me, Sam, okay? I can hear it. It’s calling to the mark. It wants me to take the book and run away with it. Burn it now.” 

There’s a crash outside the window, and Dean turns to see the Stynes running up to the house. “Sam, burn it now!” 

Dean and Charlie manage to hold them off until the book is blazing in the fireplace. 

“Holy fuck, that was close,” Dean sighs after the last one is twitching on the ground. 

Sam nods in agreement. 

While he’s driving, Cas texts him. 

Cass: _I have my grace._

Dean’s happy that Cas is happy. 

When they get back to the bunker, Dean drops off Sam and Charlie before going to pick up some pizza. When he gets back, he smiles when he sees Cas is there. “Hey, look who decided to show? So, you’re back one hundred percent? How’d that happen?” 

“It was Hannah. She managed to get the location of the remainder of my grace out of Metatron.” 

“Awesome. I told you we were due for a win. Good to have you back, pal,” Dean says. 

Later that night, Dean goes to Cas’s room to find him—knitting. Dean laughs. “How’s it going there, buddy?” 

Cas squints at him. “This is harder than it looks.” 

Dean shuffles around before asking, “Hey, you think you could do that in my room? I sleep better when you’re there.” 

Cas visibly softens. “Of course, Dean,” he says, allowing Dean to lead him by the hand to his room. 

_So if you wake up with the sunrise_

_And all your dreams are still as new_

_And happiness is what you need so bad_

_The answer lies with you_

In the morning, Cas is gone. Dean sits up groggily and rolls over onto where Cas was laying. It’s still warm, so that spurs Dean to get up. Dean pulls on his robe and follows his nose to the kitchen, where Cas is making a valiant attempt at pancakes. Cas doesn’t eat, so Dean’s heart swells at the knowledge that they must be for him. Dean walks up behind Cas and wraps his arms around him. “[Hey, good lookin’, whatcha got cookin’](https://youtu.be/bjCoKslQOEs),” Dean sings offkey into Cas’s shoulder. Cas swats a hand at Dean, but Dean doesn’t let that deter him. Dean is still wrapped around Cas, doing his best to leave a hickey on Cas’s quickly healing neck, when Charlie walks into the kitchen. Dean jumps at the sound of shattering ceramic and turns around. “Jesus, Charlie, you’re going to give me a heart attack, and that is so not the way I thought I’d go,” Dean says hurriedly, to cover up the blush spreading up his face. 

“Dean. Cas,” Charlie squeaks, “What are you up to this fine morning?” 

Dean sniffs the air. “Cas is burning pancakes.” 

Cas swears. 

Charlie dutifully doesn’t comment during breakfast, but she corners Dean after. “Dean,” she says, looking up at him with big eyes, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! When did this happen?” 

“Um, pretty recently,” Dean says, scratching his neck. 

Charlie looks at him skeptically. “That level of domesticity does not happen overnight, dude.” 

“It’s kind of been a thing since purgatory,” Dean confesses. 

“Since purgatory?” Charlie shouts. 

“Hey, keep it down,” Dean shushes, although, come to think of it, he hasn’t even seen Sam this morning. “It’s been complicated,” Dean shrugs. 

Charlie snorts. “I bet. But I’m proud of you. You know, fight the patriarchy, and all that jazz. Embrace your bi-ness.” 

Dean splutters. “Haven’t exactly given it a label yet.” 

“Oh. Look, I’m sure your dad put all kinds of junk in your head about this stuff, but being with a guy does not make you any less of a man, got it?” 

“I think I’ve been getting better at not freaking out about this whole thing, but I still needed that,” Dean admits and pulls her into a hug. 

“No problem. I expect to be kept in the loop, though! I want to live vicariously through you!” 

Dean smirks. “I could go into detail if you want, but I didn’t think dick was your thing, and especially not guy on guy…” 

“Um, yeah. On second thought, spare me the details. But know if you ever need anyone to bounce ideas off of, I’m here and totally nonjudgmental unless you’re being a complete idiot.” 

Dean smiles. “Thanks, kiddo.” 

Charlie leaves shortly after, and eventually, after a very long and gratuitous goodbye kiss, Cas leaves to go do angel stuff, and Dean is alone. There’s still no sign of Sam. Dean searches around until he finds a case that looks like vamps. Just the thing he needs to blow off some steam. Cas has certainly been helping him keep a handle on the mark, but there’s still a base need that simmers under his skin. Dean shoots Sam a text with the location, but he doesn’t wait for Sam to reply, he just goes. Dean loses himself in the rhythm of the swings and hacks of his machete, and he’s taken out the nest before he knows it. Dean’s humming and washing his hands when Sam shows up. “You couldn’t have waited?” Sam asks. 

“Oh, come on, man. I can handle it. I did handle it.” 

“What if you couldn’t?” 

“But I did. It’s done. Come on. It’s the only way I can take the edge off. I don’t always like to wait around for you, especially with you looking at me like that all the time.” 

“Look at you like what?” 

“Like that! Like I’m some sort of a diseased killer puppy. You know what, man? I’m sweaty, and I’m covered in vamp juice. Can we just talk about this later? I’d like to get back to the bunker, get my buzz on, and uh, you know, pass out watching Speed Two Cruise Control. We cool?” 

“Cool,” Sam sighs. 

He’s sitting on the couch in his den, drifting in and out of that elusive between sleep state when his phone vibrates violently, startling him all the way awake. 

“Yeah?” he asks gruffly. 

“Dean,” Cas’s voice comes panicked through the speakers. 

“Cas? Cas, what’s wrong?” 

“A hospital just called me. Claire is hurt,” Cas explains. 

Dean relaxes for all of a second before he thinks of all the ways she could have gotten hurt, and he wonders if he needs to rip anyone’s lungs out. 

“Could you come be with me?” Cas asks in a small voice. 

Dean registers that Cas is probably feeling guilty and generally pretty shitty right now. “Yeah, sweetheart, me and Sam will be there. Just give me an address.” 

“Thank you,” Cas breathes in relief. 

“How is she?” Sam asks when they finally get there, after a drive filled with Dean impatiently tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. 

“Well, I haven’t gone in yet. I was waiting for backup,” Cas hedges. 

Dean would laugh if he couldn’t almost smell the anxiety pouring off of Cas. “Three men and a lady. Let’s do this.” 

They pry out of Claire that she was at a bar when she got hurt because she was following up a lead on her mom. She was looking to talk to a guy named Ronnie because that was the last person to see her mom alive. “Why was Amelia looking for him?” Cas asks. 

Claire spits back, “She went looking for miracles. She went looking for you.” 

Dean and Cas go back to the bar to look for Ronnie. Cas looks worried when Dean slams Ronnie’s head against the table, but, hey, he got some information out of him. Ronnie tells them that Amelia was looking for a faith healer, and he gives them a name, a place to start their search. 

They’re on their way back to the motel where Sam and Claire are when Cas turns to Dean. “Would you help me pick out a gift for Claire? It’s her birthday today.” 

Dean blanches at the idea. He doesn’t fucking know what teenage girls like, but Cas is looking at him pleadingly. 

“Where do you want to go?” 

“I read online that teens with authority issues like to shop at the Hot Topical, so I thought we might start there.” 

Dean quirks a smile. “Yeah, okay.” 

Cas is browsing through racks of t-shirts with increasingly obscure characters on them when he looks up at Dean and says, “I’m worried about you.” 

Dean scoffs, but secretly he’s a little worried, too. There’s a constant hammering on the inside of his head that rarely gives him relief. “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

Eventually, they find Amelia, but they’re too late. The Grigori, a watcher angel, who was holding her captive kills her before they can escape. Dean feels the pit in his stomach grow at another person he couldn’t save, but they direct Claire to Jody, so Dean thinks she’ll end up just fine. 

Dean’s sitting in the library when he hears footsteps descending into the bunker. He looks up hopefully, thinking maybe Cas is dropping in for a visit, but it’s Sam. “You look like crap on toast,” Dean says. 

“I just haven’t been sleeping well.” 

“There a woman you haven’t mentioned?” 

“A woman?” Sam asks incredulously. 

“Well, I’m just saying. You weren’t here when I went to bed last night. You’ve been running off on your own a lot these past couple weeks.” 

“I do that.” 

“You actually don’t.” 

“Dean, we don’t always do the exact same thing at the exact same time,” Sam says. 

Dean squints at him but lets it lie. 

“I think I caught us a case. Murder in Omaha, victim’s eyes were cut out, janitor runs in just as the killer jumps out the window.” 

“That’s it?” Sam asks. 

“Well, the window was on the third story. Look, man, I’m just trying to stay busy here, okay? Unless you have bigger fish to fry.” 

“No, I’m sold. I’m in,” Sam says. 

“All right, well, I’m going to hit it. You probably should, too. We’ll leave first thing in the AM,” Dean says and turns to go to his bedroom. 

He flops down on his bed and pulls out his phone to call Cas, but he doesn’t answer. Dean sighs. 

Dean: _What’s new?_

Dean falls asleep waiting for a reply. 

Things start tumbling downhill after they drive to Omaha and discover that their case has the stench of the Stynes all over it. Great. 

They go back to the bunker to do some more information gathering. Dean’s wandering around when he hears Sam’s phone buzzing away in the library. It’s Cas, so he picks it up. “Cas?” he asks. 

“Sam,” Cas says urgently. 

“No, it’s Dean. What’s up?” 

“Nothing. I’m just, uh, staying in touch… like I do.” 

“Uh huh. Something on your mind?” 

“No. This call is pointless. My ride’s here.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows. What the fuck. Cas can’t even text Dean back, but he’s calling Sam for “pointless” calls? They’re hiding something from him, and Dean is going to figure it out before this screws them over like every time it does when they keep things from each other. 

Sam walks into the library. “Hey, you talk to Cas recently?” Dean asks, picking at his shirt like he doesn’t really care what the answer is, but he’s watching Sam intently for any tells. 

“No. Um, not for a while. Why?” Sam’s a scary good liar, but Dean taught him everything he knows. 

“I was just wondering what he’s up to. He’s got to be up to something, right?” 

“Yeah, angel stuff, or something, I don’t know.” Sam shrugs. 

The walls seem to be closing in on Dean, so he goes out to get a pizza. He’s returning to Baby with a box when some Stynes ambush him. Dean feels the mark course through him, screaming for blood, yearning for it, and this is one time where Dean can happily oblige. Dean barely registers killing all of them except one, twisting his arms behind his back to cuff him and take him back to the bunker. Dean looks at his upturned box of pizza and sighs. 

Dean learns the guy’s name is Eldon without too much fuss. In fact, he seems entirely too willing to divulge information. “My family’s been in the fix it business for a thousand years, and business has never been better. Stock market dive, the recession, 9/11, Arab Springs? You make a big enough mess, has to get cleaned up. Now, for the last eighty years, we haven’t had the book. With the book, we’re unstoppable,” Eldon says. 

Sam’s phone starts to buzz. Dean ignores it, expecting Sam to do the same, but Sam steps out of the room to take the call. Dean follows him with incredulous eyes, then turns back to Eldon. “The girl you killed, why did you take her eyes?” 

“It’s a family specialty—bioengineering,” he pulls up his shirt to reveal a scar, “Two hearts in here. Bunch of extra muscles. Pretty much what you’d expect though, given the family tree. The house of Frankenstein.” 

Dean heaves an internal sigh. He can’t say he’s surprised. 

“We’re not ordinary men. We’re Spartans. When I go down, there’s an army of replacements behind me,” Eldon continues. 

“And where does this army call home, hmm? Who’s big daddy Frankenstein?” Dean presses. 

“Were you here when I mentioned we’re underground? There are secrets. You give me the book, though, and it’s conceivable we could have a conversation.” 

“Dude, we don’t have the book. The book was burned.” 

“The book is protected by a spell. It’s eternal. It cannot be destroyed.” 

Dean’s eyebrows raise into his hairline. What. The. Fuck. Dean storms out of the room to go find Sam, who’s just hanging up the phone. 

“What are you doing?” Dean asks flatly. 

“Uh, something came up,” Sam hedges. 

That is so not good enough of an answer. “What came up?” 

“It’s handled. Uh, what’s going on in there? Get any more out of him?” 

“Yeah, an earful. Let me ask you something,” Dean says, preparing for something he’s sure he doesn’t want to hear, but he’s interrupted by a clanging in the hall. 

Dean turns and runs back to the dungeon to see Eldon’s arm hanging in the cuff they had him in. “Oh my god. He ripped it off.” 

Dean looks down the hall and follows the trail of blood. Ugh. He follows it out of the bunker, into the woods surrounding it, until the blood becomes more clotted than liquid, and eventually runs brown and dry until nothing remains. Dean looks around him, but he doesn’t see any signs of which way Eldon went. He turns back to the bunker. 

When he gets back, Sam is sitting in the library with a stack of books. “Well, I’ve been going through everything we have on the Frankensteins, and it’s just like Eldon said.” 

“I know, it’s like Alpha male central. And then I thought, and this is key, I thought, this is bad, but it would really blow if these guys had the book. At least they don’t have the damn book,” Dean says, pacing in agitation. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam laughs nervously. 

“At least the damn book burned. Right, Sam? But then, Eldon hits me with this fun little fact. He says that the book can’t be destroyed. Says that it can’t be sliced, diced, shredded, burned, drowned. Cannot be destroyed. Ain’t that crazy? Because I know I saw something burn,” Dean says, edging on hysterical. 

Sam’s phone starts to buzz on the table. “Sam, you answer that, so help me!” 

Sam picks up the phone. “Hey.” 

He listens for a second, Dean vaguely hearing Cas’s voice over the line, then, “Who’s gone?” 

“Who’s gone?” Dean parrots. “Who’s gone?” he shouts. 

Sam looks up at him and gulps. “Charlie.” 

Dean is focusing very, very hard, to not let red edge out his vision. The mark is screaming at him with this new revelation. “I don’t believe it! You got Charlie involved with this again, and now she’s missing?” Dean roars. 

Sam’s phone vibrates again. Dean sees Charlie’s name flash across the screen. Sam picks up. “Charlie, where are you?” he asks urgently. 

“Charlie, if you have the book, give it to them.” 

“Charlie has the damn Book of the Damned?” Dean yells, pulling at his hair. 

He yanks the phone away from Sam. “Charlie, I don’t know what the hell is going on, but you need to listen to me. Give whoever that is whatever they want. You understand?” 

“I can’t do that, Dean,” Charlie says. 

“Charlie,” Dean growls, getting to his feet and running to his car. 

He gets in and jams the key into the ignition, dimly registering Sam getting in the passenger seat. When they’re flying down the road, he turns to Sam, “So you had the book the whole time? Lied right to my face?” 

“I thought it was our only chance to get you free of the mark!” Sam defends indignantly. 

“I made it real clear how I felt. You ever consider that? And then you pulled Cas into it. And Charlie.” 

“Charlie loves you, Dean. We all love you.” 

“Sam, don’t even start with that right now. I can’t deal with it.” 

Dean whips them into the motel parking lot. Dean pulls out his handgun and kicks the door to Charlie’s room open, but the door frame was already broken. “Oh, God,” Dean hears Sam say. 

Dean hurries to Sam and stops in his tracks, arrested by the sight of Charlie coated in her own blood in the dingy motel bathroom. Dean feels like he should be devastated right now, but the mark won’t let him feel anything but cold rage. 

They give her a hunter’s funeral. Dean’s watching the ash float into the blue sky when Sam starts to talk. Dean interrupts, “Shut up. You got her killed, you don’t get to apologize.” 

“We were trying to help you,” Sam says. 

“I didn’t need help. I told you to leave it alone. The mark isn’t going to kill me.” 

“Maybe not, but when it’s done with you, you won’t be you anymore. Dean, you’re all I got. Of course I was going to fight for you because that’s what we do. And listen, I had a shot—” 

“Yeah, you had a shot. Charlie’s dead. Nice shot,” Dean scoffs. 

“You think I’m ever gonna forgive myself for that?” 

“You wanna know what I think? I think it should be you up there, not her. This thing, with Cas, and the book, ends now. Shut it down before somebody else gets hurt. You understand me?” 

“And what about you?” 

Dean thinks. “Oh, I’m going to find whoever did this, and I’m going to rip apart everything and everyone they’ve ever loved. And then I’m going to tear out their heart.” 

He has six missed calls from Cas. Whatever, Dean’ll give him a taste of his own medicine for a change. 

Dean tracks down the Stynes’s headquarters. He goes there and takes a few down, the kills coming almost automatically, before they knock him out. 

When he comes to, he’s strapped to an operating table. They must want to get their frankenfreak on. Peachy. “Don’t do this,” Dean warns them. 

“Well, son, we’re past the bargaining stage,” the oldest Styne says. 

“No, the mark on my arm means that I can’t die. I’m not bargaining. You flatline me, I will come back. But I’ll come back with black eyes. And then you’ll all die.” 

“You make a compelling case, and I hope you’re right. A man that doesn’t die? Well, that’s a perfect lab rat.” 

Styne grabs a scalpel and rubs his hands together. “All right. Let’s crack this pinata.” 

Dean strains at the leather bands holding him down. One of his arms snaps free, and he grabs Styne’s wrist and headbutts him. Styne stumbles back, and Dean grabs another scalpel off of the tray next to him. Another Styne rushes at him, and Dean delivers a quick slash across the throat. The man falls to his knees. The nurse charges at him, holding a syringe. Dean breaks her grip on it and slams it into her neck, depressing the plunger and causing her to drop as well. Dean runs after Papa Styne and catches his neck in the crook of his elbow. 

“You took something from me. Now I’m gonna take everything from you,” Dean says in the man’s ear before jerking his arm and snapping his neck. 

A cold trickle of satisfaction works its way down Dean’s spine as he opens the door to move through the rest of the house. He probably kills a dozen more people before he deems the house empty, but the mark isn’t quenched. It whispers to him that there’s more of them out there, that he’s not quite done yet. 

Dean rifles through some of their papers and sees they had noted the location of the bunker. That’s as good of a place to start his search as any. 

When he pulls up outside the bunker, he sees someone walking around outside the entrance. Dean carefully walks up behind him, so silently that the man doesn’t even whirl around until Dean is two feet behind him. The man lurches for the door of the bunker, but Dean brings up his knife and stabs the man, aiming for the fleshy part of his torso. He clutches his side as he falls into the bunker. Dean slips in behind him. “Roscoe?” Dean hears Eldon ask as Roscoe, apparently, falls to the floor, dead. 

Eldon looks up at Dean’s sober face. “Been looking for you,” Dean says, his cheek twitching as it registers the dried blood pulling on the skin uncomfortably. 

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that? Oh, wait. You’re not still sore about, um, what’s her name?” Eldon asks mockingly. 

Dean is so not in the mood to cater to assholes. “Charlie. Her name was Charlie.” 

“Yeah, well. Chuckie got what she deserved. Wanna know how I did it? It’s kinda a funny story.” 

“Shut up.” 

“Straight to it, then. I respect that. See, you got lucky before. This time, I’m sporting some new upgrades. See, my old man—” Elton starts, but Dean cuts him off coldly. 

“Your old man is dead. They’re all dead. So you can save me the speech on the three hearts, the two spleens, the seven nipples, for the ladies—or the fellas, I don’t judge. But even with all that, you still only have one brain.” 

“So?” Elton gets out before Dean shoots him, leaving a bullet hole clean through the center of his forehead. 

Dean turns his gun towards the younger guy who was with Elton. “No, no, no, no, don’t!” he says in panic. 

“Why not? You’re one of them.” 

“No, I’m not! I hate my family! See, look! No stitches!” he says as he pulls up his shirt to show Dean, “I’m not like them. I promise.” 

“Oh, you are like them. There’s bad in you. It’s in your blood. You can deny it, and you can run from it all you want, but that bad will always win.” 

The boy starts crying. Dean hesitates, but then he thinks of what’s coursing through his own blood. The mark of Cain is inevitable for Dean. He’ll never win no matter how much he struggles against it, so why would it be any different for this boy? 

Dean squeezes the trigger, and the boy collapses to the ground. 

The door to the bunker bangs open, and Dean turns around, ready to go for the throat of whoever it is. Dean calms minutely when he sees it’s Cas, but only because of all the willpower he’s exerting. The mark is no longer discerning his enemies from his friends, it just screams for blood. As long as it’s red and heavy flowing, the mark doesn’t care where it comes from. 

“Dean! What have you done?” Cas asks, moving forward to kneel at the boy’s side. “You killed him.”

“I took down a monster,” Dean defends, “Because that’s what I do. And I’ll continue to do that until—” 

“You become the monster,” Cas finishes for him. 

“You can leave now, Cas,” Dean says. 

“No, I can’t, because I’m your friend.” 

“Really? Do you screw over all your friends?” Dean asks, thinking of all the secrets Cas and Sam were keeping from him. 

“Sam and I were trying to cure you! We still are! We can read the book now.” 

“Oh, so what? So, you might find a spell that might take this crap off my arm? But even if you do, what’s it going to cost? Magic like that does not come free. No, it comes with a price that you pay in blood. So, thanks, but I’m good.” 

Dean turns to walk out of the bunker, but Cas’s hand on his shoulder stops him. “No, you’re not. Maybe you could fight the mark for years, maybe even centuries, like Cain did, but you can’t fight it forever. And then when you finally turn, and you will turn, Sam, and everyone you know, everyone you love, they could be long dead. Everyone except me. I’m the one who will have to watch you murder the world, so if there’s even a small chance that we can save you, I won’t let you walk out of this room.” 

Dean laughs. “That’s cute that you think you have a choice.” 

“I think the mark is changing you,” Cas says, looking at him with pleading eyes. 

“You’re wrong.”

“Am I? Because the Dean Winchester I know would never have murdered that kid.” 

“Yeah, well, that Dean’s always been kind of a dick.” 

Dean tries to brush past Cas again, but Cas’s grip on him tightens. He’s reminded of Cas’s angel strength. Cas normally always dials it back for Dean, to make him feel of control of himself, but Cas isn’t holding back now. 

“Dean, I don’t want to have to hurt you,” Cas begs. 

Even with Cas’s strength on full display, he still knows Cas. “I don’t think that’s going to be a problem.” 

Dean punches Cas in the face, his fist landing with a satisfying crunch. Dean thinks back to the first time he punched Cas, the way his fist felt like it glanced off of a concrete wall and compares it to now. Dean shakes his head. 

“Dean,” Cas gasps, scrabbling at Dean’s hand. 

Dean rains down punch after punch until Cas is lying on the ground with blood leaking out of his nose. He’s so disoriented that his angel blade slides halfway down his sleeve. The silver catches Dean’s eye, and he pulls it out of Cas’s coat and hefts it above his head. “Dean, please,” Cas says, coughing up blood. Dean plunges the knife down. 

Cas had told him about Naomi, and the way she had made him kill all of those copies of Dean, and how he still couldn’t kill Dean in that crypt. Hell, he wouldn’t even raise a hand against Dean now. It’s not like Dean has any room to talk though, he thinks, looking down at the book next to Cas’s head that is skewered by the angel blade. Cas just looks up at him, unblinking. 

“You and Sam stay the hell away from me. Next time, I won’t miss,” Dean promises. 

Dean walks out of the bunker, into his car, and drives for two hours before he allows himself to start looking for a bar. Thinking on that, though, he realizes he doesn’t particularly want to deal with people, so Dean visits a liquor store before checking into a motel room. 

Dean drinks, aiming to wipe Cas’s bloody face from his mind. 

The room starts to blur before he’s successful. 

When Dean wakes up, he’s on the floor of his motel room. He gets up, joints creaking, and cursing his drunk self for not going to sleep on the bed. Dean wipes offensive smelling drool from his face. He gropes around on the nightstand for his phone and sees missed messages from Sam. He unlocks his phone and sees Cas had tried to call him, too. Dean rubs a hand down his face in shame. He looks around until he sees a bottle of beer sitting on his nightstand. He takes a swig from it and grimaces. It’s flat and skunky, but alcohol is alcohol, and a little hair of the dog is what he needs this morning. He drains the rest of the bottle. 

Dean’s phone starts to vibrate, and he looks down at it in surprise. It’s not Sam or Cas, though, it’s Rudy, one of their hunting buddies. “Yeah?” Dean answers. 

Rudy wants his help on a case, so Dean goes. His fingers are itching for something to kill. When he gets there, he tells Rudy to back off and let Dean handle it, but Rudy can’t listen to directions and ends up getting killed in the process. Dean shrugs. Rudy was old, his reflexes getting slower. It was only a matter of time, anyway. 

Dean goes back to his motel and thinks. The mark is shouting itself hoarse at him, even though Dean just killed a vamp. Dean looks in the mirror and sees Cas’s face staring back, haunting him. Dean squeezes his eyes shut before punching the mirror and shattering it. In a fit of rage, he destroys the rest of the room. 

Dean takes a deep breath, looking around at the trashed room. He has to do something about the mark. He can’t keep doing this, being this person. Dean’s sure Sam will track Dean to this motel eventually, so he leaves a note. Dean isn’t even sure if he cares about the car anymore, but he knows Sam does. Even though he’s pissed at Sam, and the mark is clouding his thoughts, he knows it’d be a pretty shitty thing to do to run off and leave his brother with no closure. 

Dean considers his phone. What about Cas? 

Dean walks out the door and goes to summon Death. 

Dean asks Death to kill him, but Death says he can’t be killed with the mark still on his arm. 

Dean asks him to remove it, then. This triggers Death to give him a lecture. “Before there was light, before there was God and the archangels, there wasn’t nothing. There was the Darkness, a horribly destructive, amoral force that was beaten back by God and his archangels in a terrible war. God locked the Darkness away where it could do no harm, and he created a mark that would serve as both lock and key. So, I could remove the mark, but only if you will share it with another to ensure that the lock remains unbroken and the Darkness remains banned.” 

Dean sighs. “I’m not doing that to anyone.” 

“What if I told you I could relocate you somewhere far away, not even on this Earth, where you would still be alive but no longer a danger to yourself and others?” 

“I’d say that sounds a lot better than whatever the fuck I’ve got going on right now.” 

“Your brother will have to die, though. He’ll never get up on trying to get you back and knowing him, he might succeed,” Death warns. 

Dean screws his eyes shut. This goes against every fiber of his being, but the mark isn’t something to be messed around with, and Sam just can’t see that. “Okay.” 

Dean pulls out his phone to call Sam. “Grab a pen. It’s time to say goodbye,” Dean says and gives him the address of the abandoned restaurant he’s at. 

Sam pulls up soon after, in the Impala. Dean knew Sam would be hot on his heels. Sam gets out of the car and starts to plead with Dean, “Whatever you’re thinking of doing, don’t. There is another way. You don’t need to go with him. You don’t need to die!” 

“Funny you say that. Truth is, when I left, I thought the only way out was my death. Well, I was wrong, Sam. It’s yours.” 

He and Sam enter the building, and Death explains the plan to Sam. Sam protests, “This isn’t you. This doesn’t make any sense.” 

“No, it makes perfect sense if you stop thinking about yourself for one damn minute!” Dean yells, “Remember when we were in that church, making Crowley human, about to close the gates of hell? Well, you sure as hell were ready to die for the greater good then.” 

Sam tries to tell Dean that he’s not evil, that there has to be another way, but, “No, there is no other way, Sam. I’m sorry.” 

Dean looks Sam in the eyes, and Sam punches him in the face. He’s almost relieved. Fighting is the only thing he knows how to do, these days. 

“That’s enough!” Sam cries when he’s lying on the ground with a bloody face. 

Sam stares at Dean. “You will never, ever hear me say that you, the real you, is anything but good. But, you’re right. Before you hurt anyone else, you need to be stopped at any cost. I understand,” Sam sniffles.

“Do it,” Sam says before he breaks down in full out tears. 

Dean steels his heart. The sight of his baby brother in pain has never sat well with him, but this is unavoidable. It has to be done. Death walks over and hands his scythe to Dean. “Please. Do me the honor.” 

Sam gives Dean a tiny nod. Dean says, “Sammy, close your eyes.” 

“Wait, take these.” Sam reaches into his jacket to hand Dean a stack of photos. “Let these be your guide someday. They can help you remember what it was to be good, what it was to love.” 

Dean looks down at the pictures and swallows. 

“Forgive me,” Dean says. 

Even at his numbest, Dean can’t look at Sam’s face while he kills him. That face belongs to the kid he made supper for every night, the kid he helped his homework with, the kid who came to Dean for advice when he had his first kiss, the kid who only ever tries to do the right thing. 

Dean swings the scythe at Death. Death crumbles apart and floats away. _Dust in the wind_, his mind supplies helpfully. Sam stares at Dean in shock. 

“You okay?” Dean asks Sam, reaching down to give him a hand up. 

“I’ll live. You?” 

“Fantastic. I think I just killed Death,” Dean says, looking down at his hands. 

All of a sudden, there’s a high pitched sound ringing throughout the restaurant. A red beam of light goes through the ceiling, right to Dean’s arm. 

Dean yells in agony, but as he looks down, he watches the mark disappear. Shock is the first thing to hit him, and then it seems like all the emotions that had been on hold come flooding back. Dean burns with shame. 

He walks over and gives Sam a hug. 

God, he really needs to call Cas. 

He and Sam walk out of the restaurant together, Sam saying, “This is good, Dean. This is good. The mark is off your arm, nothing crazy happened, you have your baby again…” 

“Yeah, I’m sure everything is perfectly fine,” Dean says, making a face at Sam. 

There’s a crackling noise and Dean looks up. Red lightning is filling the sky, focusing right on the area where Sam and Dean are. A cloud of black smoke rolls toward them. “Get in the car!” Dean yells. 

They scramble into Baby, and Dean tries to get them the hell out of dodge, but they’re stuck. 

The black cloud engulfs them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what you thought! :D


	4. Cosmic Beings Compete for Dean's Affection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see end for warnings

Dean finds himself in the eye of the thick black smoke. Really, that’s better than he had hoped. He was definitely anticipating a slow death, and wouldn’t that have been great, right after he gotten rid of the mark? 

“Thank you for setting me free,” a woman’s voice says. 

Dean whirls around to face her and swallows. This must be the Darkness. “So, uh, what happens next?” 

“I like it here. With you. I haven’t felt this peaceful in a long time.” 

“Well, let’s get something straight. I’m not here to bring you peace. I know what you are.” 

The woman looks pleased. “Really? I’ve been gone so long. I didn’t think anyone remembered.” 

“Well, Death painted a hell of a picture.” 

“I don’t know this ‘Death,’ and he doesn’t know me,” the woman says, tilting her chin up. 

“So, are you saying I shouldn’t try and kill you right now?” 

“Am I saying that? Or are you?”

Dean frowns. “If you’re as bad as they say you are, why haven’t you hurt me?” 

“For the same reason you’ll never hurt me,” she says loftily as she pulls at her dress to show Dean the mark of Cain. “We’re bound. We’ll always be bound. You helped me. I helped you. No matter where I am, who I am, we will always help each other.” 

Dean stares at her for a beat before he loses consciousness. 

He comes to with Sam by his side, yelling at him to wake up. Dean groans and sits up. “Where’s the car?” 

“Uh, about a mile that way,” Sam says. 

Dean sighs, and they start their trudge. 

They drive until they come across a town that’s been infected by the black cloud. They stumble across a deputy in town, Jenna, who explains to them what little she knows of what’s going on. People’s veins become protruded and black, and then they go rabid. Jenna has a nice sized chunk missing in her leg, so they go to the hospital. It seems empty, so Dean has Jenna lead them somewhere he can give her stitches with something that isn’t dental floss. 

“You know what, Dean, I’m going to take a look around. You sew her up,” Sam says. 

Dean does just that, and when Sam returns, it’s with a man holding a baby. He says he’s been attacked by some of the infected, and Dean’s instantly put on guard. “Did they cut you or bleed on you?” Sam asks. 

Dean purses his lips when the man tells them yes. 

“You can’t stay here,” Dean says. 

Arguments from Sam and Jenna break out immediately, but the infected man stays quiet. 

“Look, we can make a deal. I’ll go somewhere quiet and lay low until this is over, and you save my baby girl.” 

Dean hesitates, but he gives the man a forced smile, and the man hands his daughter over to Jenna and runs out of the room. 

Dean wants to leave now and try to fight their way through the infected, but Sam argues, “We can just wait for them to die. It seems like they have an expiration date.” 

“And how long is that? And what do we do when they infect others? No, if we stay here, the baby dies. We did this, Sam. We broke it, we bought it.” 

Dean’s interrupted from his little tirade when his phone rings. 

“Where the hell are you, Cas?” Dean answers. 

“I’m, uh, I’m okay.” 

“You don’t sound okay.”

“Dean, I’m fine. And what I have, you can’t help me.” 

“What do you mean, what you have?” Dean can feel his tension headache building. 

“Just please tell Sam Rowena escaped with the Book of the Damned and the codex,” Cas redirects. 

“Okay, forget Rowena. Where are you?” Dean presses. 

“No, just tell me, the mark, Dean, is it gone?” 

“Oh, really? You’re worried about me after everything—” Dean bites his lip. He’s not ready to relive that. “It’s gone. I’m good.” 

He can hear Cas breathe a sigh of relief, but the relief doesn’t last long when they tell Cas the Darkness has been released. 

Cas acts like he’s going to say something else, but there’s a crash, and he says, “Sam, Dean, goodbye. It may be some time before we see one another again.” 

“Wait, Cas! Cas!” Dean shouts into the phone, but all he’s met with is a dial tone. 

His head starts pounding even more when Sam tells Dean he wants to stay behind to try to find a cure. 

“Sam,” he says despairingly. 

“Saving people means all of the people. Not just that baby, not just each other. I heard it in your voice when you agreed to take that child. I get it. That’s what you do. But you’ve got to let me do what I do, too.” 

Dean turns and jogs away with Jenna, fighting every instinct he has that’s screaming in protest at him as he leaves Sam behind.

On their way out of the hospital, they run into the baby’s father again. Dean points his shotgun at him. “We’re not going to hurt you as long as you leave that baby alone.” 

“Her name is Amara,” the man chokes out before he collapses, twitching on the ground. Dean swallows and looks away. He has to get Jenna and… Amara somewhere safe. 

Dean drives Jenna to her grandma’s house and drops her off. 

“You’re going to be okay, both of you,” he reassures her. 

When Dean gets back into Baby, he immediately calls Cas. “Come on, Cas, pick up,” he mutters, but there’s no answer. 

He drives for about another half hour before he tries Cas again, but he still doesn’t pick up. He drives on, and he’s wondering how many phone calls marks the line between concerned and desperately worried when a number that’s not in his phone comes through. “Ghostbusters,” he answers, but Jenna’s too distraught to appreciate his humor. “Whoa, whoa, slow down. What happened?” he asks. 

Jenna doesn’t change her story. The picture she paints of Amara moving alphabet blocks around with her mind is not a comforting one for Dean. He makes a U-turn. 

Dean calls Sam to apprise him of the situation. _At least _Sam_ can answer his damn phone_, Dean grumbles to himself. 

When he gets back to Jenna’s grandma’s house, Jenna meets him outside to say her grandma called an exorcist. Dean is curious to see how this is going to go until he walks in and sees Crowley is the exorcist. Jenna sees the look they exchange and asks, “Do you know each other?” 

Crowley replies, “Oh, yes. Dean was a rather scrumptious altar boy.” 

Dean glares at him. “Can I talk to you outside, Father?” 

When they walk outside, Crowley asks him, “Where have you been? Have you heard what your brother and idiot angel have been up to?” 

“I’ve heard enough. So, you think there’s a demon in there?” 

“Not even a little bit.” 

Their conversation is cut off when there’s a loud scream from inside the house. Dean sprints inside and sees Jenna’s grandma dead on the floor. “Jenna?” he calls. 

They run upstairs to check on Amara. Dean’s relieved she’s okay for all of two seconds before he notices the mark of Cain on her neck. _What the hell? _“We have to find Jenna,” he says. 

They find her, all right. Amara has sucked out her soul, and she lunges at Dean. They fight, Dean trying not to hurt her, but Crowley flicks a finger to slam her against the ceiling, killing her. “I was getting bored,” he says in response to Dean’s look. 

Dean’s busy putting the pieces together. “I think Amara is the Darkness.”

“Interesting. So, what now, you kill her?” Crowley asks, like the idea is ridiculous. 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

“Please. Even if you could murder a baby, you couldn’t murder that baby. I saw the way you looked at her. Me, on the other hand, it wouldn’t be the first, and anyway, I want that child.” 

Dean stabs an angel blade through Crowley’s hand and impales him to the wall. It won’t hold him long, but it’ll make Dean’s point. Dean stalks down the hall to the nursery, but Amara’s gone. Dean throws back the blankets, like that’ll make her appear, but she’s not hidden under any of them. Dean curses under his breath.

Dean drives Baby frantically back towards Sam, and he’s relieved when he finds Sam still alive and with a cure. 

“Damn, Sammy.”

They make it back to the bunker and are discussing the absurdness, really, of the Darkness manifesting in an infant when Dean just talked to her as a grown ass woman when Dean comes to a dead stop. 

“Help me,” Cas grates out, lying on the bunker floor. 

Dean shares a look with Sam before rushing forward. He slides his arms around Cas’s shoulders before recoiling. “What the hell is wrong with your eyes?” 

“Rowena put a spell on me.” 

“Okay. We can deal with that.” Dean brushes Cas’s matted hair off of his forehead, then he tugs Cas up and settles him in a chair. 

Dean steps back, but Cas grabs his wrist. Dean’s cognizant of Sam watching them with curious eyes. “I need to be restrained until we’re able to remove this spell. I don’t want to hurt you,” Cas says. 

Dean looks away, painfully aware of how much _he’d_ hurt Cas the last time they had been face to face. “You want to handle that, Sam?” he croaks. 

Sam hastens to his feet and hurries out of the room. 

Dean takes Cas’s face in his hands. “I am so sorry.” 

Cas knows exactly what he’s talking about. “That wasn’t you,” Cas dismisses, “It was the mark.” 

That does nothing to ease Dean’s guilt. He presses his lips to Cas’s forehead, heartened when Cas doesn’t push him away. He just wants things to be okay between them. He pulls back from Cas when he hears Sam approaching. 

“Here, I got this from the dungeon,” Sam says, holding a long chain. 

Dean looks to Cas for his approval, and he nods. Sam fastens the chain to a hook in the floor that Dean had never noticed before while Cas doubles over in pain and starts shivering. Dean moves closer and places a hand on his back. “I’ll, uh, go get you a blanket.” 

Dean scurries off to his room and rustles around in his closet until he finds a spare one. He takes a second to breathe. Cas looks like Rowena used the attack dog spell on him, and that’s never turned out well for anyone she’s cast it on. Dean takes heart at the fact that Cas is still alive, though, because everyone else had died pretty quickly from it. A spell like that can’t take down an angel, right? 

He goes back out from the library and settles the blanket around Cas’s shoulders. He lets his hands linger for a second before pulling them away and taking a seat at the other table. “We’ll find Rowena and get her to reverse this, okay? Don’t worry,” Dean says, but he’s not sure if he’s successful in reassuring anyone. 

Dean tries to call Crowley to see if he has any leads on Rowena, after she tried to have him killed, apparently, but he doesn’t answer. 

“He’s not going to deliver Rowena to us just so she can lift the spell. He’d rather let it do whatever it’s going to do to me,” Cas says, looking pitiful hunched over in his chair. 

Dean’s heart clenches. 

Sam speaks up, moving the topic away from Rowena and maybe to the arguably more pressing matter at hand, “I hate to point this out, but you both know who we might need to help deal with the Darkness.” 

“Don’t even say it,” Dean points a finger at him. 

“He was God’s scribe. He did hear about everything.” 

“That’s just like saying it.” 

They try to track down Cas’s car that was stolen by Metatron, but there’s no reports of it. “A shut in for centuries, former scribe of God. You wouldn’t think he would be a good driver,” Cas says bitterly. 

Dean thinks he’s still upset about Sam calling his car crappy. Dean hears a thud, and he looks over at Cas, who has fallen out of his chair on to the ground. “Cas?” Dean asks, panicked. 

Dean rushes over and shakes at Cas’s shoulder. His eyes start to blink open. “Cas? Hey, are you okay?” Sam asks. 

“It’s like I was inside of a blender that was set to puree for a tomato salsa.” 

Dean lets out a breath. If Cas has the strength to make a terrible analogy, it can’t be too dire. 

They go back to searching for Rowena with renewed vigor. Eventually, Sam finds a case with some freaky murders that scream witch. They go to get their duffels. 

Dean swings back by the library before the leave. “Hey, don’t die while we’re gone, okay?” 

Cas rolls his eyes, but the effect is spoiled when he grimaces in pain from the spell. Dean pokes a finger at Cas’s chest. “I’m serious. I didn’t get the mark off for you to just go and die on me now. And text me, like every couple of hours.” 

Cas quirks a weak smile at him. “Okay.” 

“Okay. None of this ‘my phone died’ bull shit, got it? Do you want me to have to turn around and come check on you because you couldn’t text me? You know how I get.” 

“Yes, I’m intimately familiar with your chronic worrying, Dean. You know, I’ve done some research into that, and it’s an illness,” Cas says seriously. 

“Yeah, yeah. See you later.” Dean says, giving Cas a wave as he walks out of the bunker. 

Eventually, they find Rowena and drag her back to the bunker. Cas had made good on his promise of texting Dean with updates, and he had just texted him an hour ago. “Sam, why don’t you go grab Cas, so Florence Nightingale here can do her stuff?” 

“You do recall our deal? First, I de-spell the angel, then I go free,” Rowena reminds him. 

“Hmm, except for one thing. I’m going to need the book.” 

“The book was never mentioned on our negotiations!” 

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Our deal says whatever I want it to say. You’re going to play by my rules because I have your son on speed dial.” 

“Dean! Hey, I can’t find Cas,” Sam’s voice says from the down the hall. 

Dean feels panic for a brief second before he stops to think. Cas probably took his phone; they can track his GPS. They run out to Baby, Rowena in tow, and start driving. 

“You wouldn’t think a road trip with two such strapping lads could be this tedious,” Rowena sing songs from the backseat twenty minutes into their drive, “I suppose I only have myself to blame. I should never make deals with Winchesters, since they seem unable to hold up their end of the bargain.” 

“Meaning what?” Dean growls. 

“Oh, just that thing between Sam, Crowley, and myself.” 

Dean looks over sharply at Sam, who is engrossed in studying his hands. “What is she talking about?” 

“Oh, surely you knew Sam made a deal with me to kill my son if I removed the mark of Cain from your arm. Well, is the mark gone? Yes. Is Crowley dead? No. Oh, you didn’t know?” she asks with a smirk. 

“Look, I was going to tell you. Obviously, nothing ever came of it, so I figured there was no point,” Sam scrambles. 

Dean glares. “No point, huh?” 

“I mean, I see what Dean’s saying,” Rowena chimes in, “Your wee pal Castiel wouldn’t be in this pickle if you’d done what you’d promised. I would’ve had no reason to cast the attack dog spell if Crowley were already dead. Excellent point.” 

“It’s not my point. Sam knows my point. Keyword: secrets.” 

“Hey, Cas stopped, and he’s close,” Sam says, looking grateful to be able to change the subject. 

Sam and Rowena go one way to look for Cas while Dean walks in the opposite direction. He’s walking along at a brisk pace, keeping his eyes peeled for flashes of tan when he hears a crash from inside of a building. Dean tries the door, and it swings right open. Dean peers inside and sees Cas with his hands around a girl’s throat. “Cas!” Dean shouts, “Cas, don’t do this. This isn’t you. It’s the spell. You can beat this, just let her go.” 

Cas releases his grip on the girl, and she flees. Dean moves closer, reaching a cautious hand to rest on Cas’s shoulder. “It’s going to be okay, buddy.” 

Dean starts to relax his grip a bit, but Cas brings a fist up to clock Dean in the jaw. Cas wails on Dean, throwing punch after punch. Dean tries to avoid them the best he can, but he doesn’t want to fight with Cas again. _Why do we always end up hurting each other?_

Sam and Rowena burst in the door, Rowena led at gunpoint. Sam prompts her to perform her counterspell. She does, and Cas drops to the floor and begins to convulse. “Cas?” 

Dean kneels next to him, his hands on Cas’s face. Cas becomes still. Dean heart stops for a second before Cas opens his eyes, no longer stained with red, to look up at Dean. Dean slides a hand to Cas’s cheek and helps him sit up. Dean brings up his other hand to pat Cas on the shoulder before he’s distracted by Rowena shouting something. Sam’s gun goes flying out of his hand, and Rowena rushes to the door. “I’m sure you had every intention of honoring our deal, but there’s no need to take chances,” she says before disappearing. 

Dean looks back down at Cas. “Let’s get you home, okay?” 

Dean tosses the keys at Sam, so he can sit in the back with Cas. He doesn’t allow himself to hold Cas’s hand, but he does arrange Cas so his head is in Dean’s lap. Dean’s fingers stroke through Cas’s hair until Cas shuts his eyes to rest. Dean refuses to catch Sam’s eye in the mirror. 

Back at the bunker, Dean settles into a chair in the war room with an ice pack. Cas is sitting across from him, studying him with a worried look. “Dean, I—there aren’t words,” Cas says. 

“You’re right. There aren’t words because there’s no need. You were under a spell. It’s fine,” Dean says. Besides, Cas only gave him a few bruises. Dean beat Cas half to death when he had the mark. 

“I can fix that,” Cas offers, reaching a hand towards Dean’s face, but Dean bats it away. “It’s fine. I had it coming.” 

Cas frowns at him. 

That night, Dean is startled awake by his door creaking open. Dean’s hand finds his gun under his pillow and he lunges out of bed at the intruder. “Oof,” Dean hears Cas’s voice say as he’s knocked to the ground. 

“Shit, sorry, Cas. What are you doing?” Dean demands. 

“I wanted to talk to you.” 

“So you wait until,” Dean glances at his clock, “two in the morning to do it?” 

Cas pushes Dean off of him. Dean falls onto the hard floor with a groan. “You’re a lot comfier than wood, you know,” Dean complains. 

“Dean, let me heal you,” Cas insists, apropos of nothing. 

Dean squirms away. “I’m fine. I promise.” 

Cas shoots him an unhappy squint. 

“Is this really what you woke me up to talk about?” Dean asks. 

“Why won’t you accept my help?” 

“You need all your grace! Cas, you’re recovering from a spell.” 

“Why do you believe such bad things about yourself?” Cas whispers. 

Dean sits up to rub a hand behind his neck. “What are you talking about?” 

“Don’t pretend like you won’t let me heal you because you don’t want to be a drain on my grace— which replenishes itself, by the way, as you very well know. Please don’t feel guilty about what happened while you had the mark.” 

Dean gets up and moves to the bed, gesturing for Cas to join him. If they’re going to have an uncomfortable conversation, they might as well be on the memory foam. 

“Cas, you say that wasn’t me, but it was. I was there. I remember everything. I had choices.” 

Cas takes Dean’s hands in his. “I know how the mark works. I was there when Lucifer was being consumed by it. Lucifer used to be good, God’s favorite, until he was given the mark. We were jealous of him, but towards the end, he couldn’t even feel anything except anger.” 

Dean looks down at his bed spread. “I could have fought harder,” he mumbles. 

Cas grips Dean’s chin and makes Dean look him in the eyes. “You’re only human. You were never going to be able to fight it forever, honey.” 

“_Honey?_” Dean mouths incredulously, desperate to latch on to something that isn’t _this conversation_, and Cas shrugs.

“I like it,” he says defensively.

Dean raises a hand to wipe at his eyes, and Cas wraps his arms around Dean and pets his hair. “It’s okay. Just let it out, Dean. You’re so strong, but you don’t have to be tonight.” 

Dean hides his face in Cas’s shoulder and lets himself be held until he drifts off to sleep. 

_You really shouldn’t go_

_It only goes to show_

_That you will be mine_

_By taking our time_

In the morning when Dean wakes up, Cas is sitting propped up against the headboard reading a book. Cas looks down at him. “If you’re not going to let me heal you, I have something else I want you to do for me instead,” Cas says. 

“Fine. What is it?” 

Cas goes to Dean’s closet and reaches into the far back recesses. He emerges with a pair of shorts in his grasp. Dean hasn’t worn those in probably ten years, but they somehow always got repacked in his duffel and shuffled from place to place until they found a permanent home in the bunker. 

“Hey, no, I am not wearing those,” Dean protests. 

“You already said you would.” 

Dean sighs, but he catches them when Cas throws them his way. “You’re helping me wash some cars, then,” he grumbles. 

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Cas grins at him. 

Cas makes it through a few cars in the bunker’s garage before he starts to flag. “Why don’t you go lay down?” Dean suggests. 

He knows Cas must really be tired when he doesn’t even try to argue with Dean. Cas still has enough energy to drag a hand over Dean’s ass as he walks by, though. Dean smirks at him and shoos him away. “Go rest, you dork.” 

Later, Sam comes up to him as he’s washing Baby. 

“Dude, what’s up with the shorts?” 

“It’s a free bunker,” Dean says, “but I am getting serious cabin fever. I’ve washed every car in here twice.” 

“Well, I may have found a case,” Sam says, and Dean pounces on it. 

He goes to his room to grab his duffel, only to find Cas there with his knitting needles pulled out. Dean likes the sight of it. “Hey, Sam found a case.”

Cas starts to set his knitting aside and get up, but Dean goes over and pushes him back down. “Absolutely not. You need to heal.” 

Cas scowls, but he does what he’s told. Dean goes to press a kiss against Cas’s cheek, but Cas moves his face so Dean catches his lips instead. Cas wraps his arms around Dean’s back, pulling him down. Dean lets himself savor the kiss before pulling back. “I have to go. Get better, okay? And text me. You know the drill.” 

Cas rolls his eyes, and Dean knows Cas is mocking him behind his back as he walks to the door. “Don’t stink up the place too much while I’m gone,” Dean says. 

“Yes, dear,” Cas replies drolly. 

Dean shoots him a grin. 

Cas calls them while they’re driving with research he’d dug up about the town they’re heading to. “Cas, you’ve got one job to do, and that’s to heal. Understand?” 

“I can help,” Cas says petulantly. 

“Yeah, of course you can, but right now is the time for you to focus on getting better. This is a milk run. We got it, so try to relax,” Sam says. 

Dean and Sam stop at a bar that night. “Are you serious? Dean, it’s late. I’m exhausted and starving, and this place, I mean even Swayze wouldn’t come to this roadhouse,” Sam trails off. 

“First of all, never use Swayze’s name in vain. Second of all, don’t you remember this place? You don’t remember Heather? The hunter that we worked a wendigo case a couple years ago with? I texted her. She’s working a rugaru case in Texas. Actually, she never texted me back. That’s not the point. The point is, we have a ton of driving to do to go to a town where there’s probably not a case. But in there… good times, and time heals all wounds, what do you say?” 

“I say, knock yourself out. I’m gonna find a diner, dig into the lore like Cas did, see if anything’s ever happened where we’re headed.” 

“Oh, man, you’ve really got to learn to have fun. Seriously, it’s pathetic,” Dean scoffs. 

Dean goes into the roadhouse, leaving Sam with Baby. Dean takes a seat at the bar, checking his phone. Heather still hasn’t answered his text of _hey, I’m at the roadhouse if you’re in the area and want to shoot the shit_, but Cas has texted him. 

Cass: _Is this show an accurate representation of the American prison system?_

Dean snorts and shakes his head. He knows exactly what Cas is watching. 

Dean: _Very._

Dean puts away his phone and signals to the bartender for a shot. He downs it, and then decides he probably shouldn’t get hammered tonight with all the driving he’ll have to do tomorrow, so he orders a beer. A game of cards being played in the corner catches his eye, and he walks over to them. “Got room for one more?” 

They’re a surprisingly fun group, but Dean still takes them for all they’re worth. When Dean looks up at the clock, his eyes bulge a bit when he sees it’s morning. “Well, this has been fun, fellas, but I have to split.” 

The men grumble good naturedly at Dean and send him off with pats on the back and a few rough handshakes. 

Dean makes his way out of the door and is surprised to see Baby still in the parking lot. He figured Sam would have got a motel, but he guesses he slept in the back to wait for Dean. How sweet. 

That musing is shattered when Dean gets in the driver’s seat only to have a girl sit up in the back and ask, “Who are you?” 

Sam’s head pops up in the back. “Good morning! That’s, uh, my brother, Dean.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Sorry, didn’t realize you had company.” 

Dean opens the door back up and slides out. 

He waits patiently until he hears Baby’s door creak open and the girl walks past him. 

Dean gets back in Baby. Sam looks at him. “I can explain what was going on—” 

Dean just shakes his head and fumbles around until he finds his Night Moves cassette. It starts playing the[ title track](https://youtu.be/t4u6H4lXZiE). 

Sam sighs in exasperation, but eventually he starts singing along. Dean grins. 

Later, Sam cuts through their comfortable silence and says, “I tried to give her my number.” 

“What’d she say? We got tonight, who needs tomorrow?” 

“Is everything a Bob Seger song to you?” Sam glares at him. “It was nice knowing you, Piper.” 

“Piper? That’s awesome. And Heather. One night wonders, man. Shoot, we’re lucky we still get that at all,” Dean says, berating himself even as it comes out of his mouth. 

Half of Dean’s brain is screaming at him to tell Sam about Cas, but the other half is cowering in fear. Sam would probably be cool with it, but what if he wasn’t? Dean can’t take that chance. And besides, things always seem to change so quickly with Cas. One second, they’re good, and Dean is soaking in how right it all feels, but the next day, Cas is pissed at him, or he’s pissed at Cas, and, yeah, Dean decides, it’s for the best that Sam doesn’t know yet. 

“You don’t ever want something more?” Sam asks. 

Well, Dean’s committed to this story now. “I’m sorry. Have you met us? We’re batting a whopping zero in domestic life, man. Goose eggs.” 

“You don’t ever think about something? Not marriage or whatever. But something? You know, with a hunter? Somebody who understands the life?” 

This is skirting way too close to Cas territory for Dean’s comfort. Hell, yeah, he thinks about that. Dean changes the topic. “Have you not heard a single word Bob’s been singing about? You’re tired. I can tell. You hop in the back and get some Z’s.” 

Sam sighs and squints at Dean, but Dean keeps his poker face he spent the last night perfecting. 

_Many times I’ve lied_

_And many times I’ve listened_

_Many times I’ve wondered_

_How much there is to know_

Dean thinks about calling Cas while Sam is sleeping, but that’s tempting fate a bit too much for Dean’s liking. 

When Sam wakes up, he tells Dean, “I think I’ve been having visions.” 

If they were still driving, this would be the point where Dean would brake to a halt, but he pulled over while Sam was asleep, so he can’t be that dramatic. “What makes you say that?” 

“I mean, it’s just images, but it’s more of a feeling, really. I just had one right now, and Dad was in it. But it wasn’t Dad like who I grew up with. It was Dad when he was our age, and I, I think it was someone pretending to be Dad. He told me everything I wanted to hear.” 

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like Dad,” Dean agrees, but he’s still on edge. 

“Whoever it was, they had a message to deliver. They said the Darkness is coming and only you and I can stop it.” 

“Did they have him give you any helpful tips on how to do that?” 

“He said, ‘God helps those who helps themselves.’ I mean, maybe these visions are coming from God.” 

“Whoa. Pump the brakes,” Dean protests. 

“Dean, the first one happened after I prayed.” 

“You prayed? When was this?” Dean asks incredulously. 

The only kind of higher power he has faith in is Cas, and he seriously can’t picture Sam praying to God, and definitely not to any of the other dick bag angels. 

“Back in the hospital. I was infected.” 

Dean gapes at him. “You got infected, and you didn’t even tell me?” 

“I guess I was just looking for answers, you know?” 

Dean doesn’t know. “Well, I’m sure whatever is kicking around in your head right now is a side effect from the infection that you failed to tell me about.” 

“I don’t think it’s that simple,” Sam says quietly. 

Dean knows that tone of voice Sam’s using. It’s the one that says he’s not going to give up on this idea. “Come on, man. That quote? God didn’t say that. That’s not even in the Bible. That’s an old proverb that dates back to Aesop.” 

Sam gives him an impressed look. 

“I read.” 

The next day, Dean goes to the coroner while Sam goes to the police station. He sees a body drained of blood and with its heart missing. Dean’s intrigued. 

He calls Cas. “Hey, sunshine,” he greets, liking the feel of the endearment on his tongue. 

“Good morning, Dean.” 

“So, you’ll never guess what I saw today. I went and checked out the body, and its blood and heart were missing. You know what that means?” 

“What’s that?” Cas asks flatly. 

Dean can almost feel Cas’s impending eye roll, but he says it anyway. “A were-pire.” 

Cas is duly unimpressed. “I’ll see what I can find in the lore.” 

“Don’t act like it’s not a good name!” 

“Uh huh. Be safe.” 

“You, too. Talk to you later.” 

Sam and Dean go to a steakhouse for lunch, and then Dean goes back to the crime scene. He drops Sam off to talk to the victim’s widow. He calls Cas. Cas takes way too much delight in popping his bubble. “In the lore, it’s referred to as a whisper.” 

“That’s lame,” Dean complains. 

“Silver will kill it, but you may want to decapitate it just in case.” 

The deputy from the police station shows up at the scene, so Dean gets out of Baby to talk to him, leaving Cas still talking. Dean smirks a little. He wonders how long Cas will keep talking. He gets out to greet the deputy, but the deputy lunges at him. They have a short fight before Dean is able to get a grip on his gun and shoot him. 

Cas is saying his name over the phone. Dean guesses the gun shots tipped him off. “Turns out I did shoot the deputy,” Dean says. 

“Wait, Dean, is everything okay?” Cas’s panicked voice asks. 

“The deputy was a were-pire, but the silver bullets worked.” 

“No, Dean, listen, according to the lore the timing is off, it can’t be—” 

“Hang on,” Dean cuts him off as the body outside starts moving. 

Dean beheads it, but its eyes still move. Dean puts it in his cooler and sends a picture of the fangs to Cas. 

“See if there’s a match in the lore, would you?” 

“I’m on it,” Cas says dutifully. 

With Cas’s researching help, they finish the case, and Dean goes home and collapses in his bed. He rolls over to face Cas. “Baby got trashed,” Dean complains. 

Cas sets his book down on Dean’s nightstand. “That’s terrible,” he says seriously before leaning in for a gentle kiss. 

Dean sighs into it and brings his hand up to cup the back of Cas’s head. He leverages himself on top of Cas and deepens the kiss. Cas drags a hand down Dean’s back to his ass, and Dean shivers. 

“Think you can be quiet?” Dean asks as he reaches a hand into Cas’s pants, slowly jerking him off. 

Cas muffles his moans into Dean’s shirt until he comes, then he returns the favor. 

Dean lies on top of Cas in post orgasmic bliss until Cas prods him off. “Go clean us up,” Cas says. 

“You can’t just mojo us clean?” 

“That takes away the magic,” Cas says. 

Dean narrows his eyes at him, but he sighs and gropes for the wet wipes he keeps in his nightstand. He peels Cas’s clothes off of him, and then he wipes any stray white marks. Dean sheds his clothes onto the floor and wipes himself down, ignoring Cas’s eyes on him. He throws the wipe at Cas, but Cas makes it disappear before it reaches him. “Seriously?” Dean says. 

Cas smiles at him and pulls him into a soft kiss until Dean rolls over, so he can sleep. He ignores it when Cas arranges him so he’s the little spoon. They can switch next time. 

_You’ve got the love I need_

_Maybe more than enough_

_Oh, darling, darling, darling_

_Walk a while with me_

When Sam comes to Dean with their next case, he’s practically vibrating with excitement. “A couple was axe murdered in Fall Rivers, Massachusetts at, wait for it, the Lizzie Borden Bed and Breakfast Museum.” 

Dean snorts, but he indulges Sam. 

“What do you want to do about Cas?” Dean asks. 

“He’s knee deep binge watching The Wire.” 

“Oh, he’s not coming out any time soon. All right.” 

He walks back to Sam’s room, where Cas has seemed to have taken up permanent residence when Dean’s not asleep. Just like Sam said, Cas is engrossed in Netflix. 

“Sam found a case,” Dean tells him. 

“I could go with you,” he offers. 

“Nah, you’re still not a hundred percent. I’ll be back, okay?”

It seems like a case that really is just humans being terrible people, nothing supernatural about it, until Dean notices the mark of Cain on a piece of paper in one of their witness’s houses. 

“Len, where did you see this?” Dean asks the witness. 

Dean gapes when Len says he was talking about Lizzie Borden with a girl with that mark on her shoulder. “What did this girl look like?” 

Len looks thoughtful. “Um, a girl. Regular girl. She said her name was Amara. She was twelve, maybe a little younger or little older. Who is she?” 

“She’s a runaway. Do you know where Amara is now? Is she still in town?” 

“I don’t know. Why are you looking for her?” Len digs. 

“I’m not at liberty to discuss that,” Dean says in his official FBI business voice. 

“You have to tell me. Please! I need to find her!” Len says, stepping forward to grip at Dean’s shirt. 

“Why?” Dean asks, moving out of reach. 

“I don’t know what that girl did to me, but I haven’t been right since. I can’t eat, or sleep, or dream. All the things I used to love, they leave me cold,” Len says hysterically. 

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. A soulless person running around is not someone he wants to deal with. 

Cass: _How are things going?_

Dean starts to text him back, but Dean doesn’t want to explain this whole soul eating thing with his thumbs. He calls Cas. It’s good to hear his voice. 

It turns out Amara’s eaten more than one soul in town, and the murders all start to line up. 

They chase their tails trying to track down all of Amara’s victims, but her soul sucking has spread across state lines. “It seems insane to leave our one and only angel friend on the bench,” Sam says. 

They’ve had this discussion recently, with Dean arguing Cas needs more time to heal, but he relents. “Fine. I’ll call him.” 

He doesn’t like what he hears. “Are you watching Jenny Jones?” Dean asks incredulously. 

“It’s a rerun. She’s about to announce the paternity results.” 

Dean hears, “You are the father,” waft from the tv to Cas’s phone. “Jenny, he is not ready to be a father,” Cas says in exasperation. 

Dean can almost picture Cas’s frustrated face and he starts to smile. But, “Hey, I thought you were going with socially acceptable binge watching. You know, The Wire, Game of Thrones.” 

“Well, a man can’t live on caviar alone, Dean,” Cas says. 

“You sound weird, okay? Bad weird. So do me a favor. Turn off the tv. Go outside and get some air. We’re in the dark here, pal. I need you back in the game, okay?” 

Cas gives him a huff. “Okay,” he agrees, chastised. 

Dean hangs up and shakes his head at his phone. He’ll definitely need to follow up on that later, make sure Cas hasn’t started watching Jerry Springer. 

They get wind of more people who have killed people in true Snapped fashion, and it turns out they’re having such a difficult time locating anyone because Crowley is sending demons to murder them to clean up Amara’s messes. 

“Huh. Crowley and Amara,” Dean says thoughtfully. 

“I don’t get why Crowley would have Amara on earth in the first place. Wouldn’t it be smarter to keep her in hell?” Sam brings up. 

“Yeah, but then he’d have to spend more time there, and he hates that place,” Dean says absentmindedly. 

“Oh, right,” Sam scoffs, “I keep forgetting about you and Crowley’s summer of love.” 

Dean rolls his eyes and studies a map of the area. He taps on an asylum that’s no longer running with his finger. “Sound like Crowley’s kind of place to you?” Sam asks. 

Dean nods his assent. 

He calls Cas. “Hey, you make it off the couch?” 

He can almost feel Cas’s answering glare through the phone. 

“So, we’re, uh, going after Amara,” Dean says cautiously. 

Dean expects resistance from Cas, but he doesn’t offer any. Dean narrows his eyes. “Anything _you _want to share with the class?” 

“I have a lead on Metatron. I’m tracking him down.” 

Dean can’t exactly say too much when he’s going off to find God’s sister, so he bites his tongue. This is what he wanted when he told Cas he needed him back in the game, right? “Be safe,” Dean says instead of any of the other thoughts swirling in his mind. 

“You, too,” Cas answers before ending the call. 

Dean finds himself face to face with Amara, but he can’t bring himself to kill her. She’s looking at him with her fifteen year old face. _He can’t murder a kid in cold blood, _he reasons, but it feels weak, even to him.

They get back to the bunker, and he discovers Cas didn’t have any better luck. “You let Metatron go?” Dean asks incredulously. 

“He’s not going anywhere. He’s human and a pitiable one, at that. He’s not a threat to us,” Cas reassures him. 

“Guys, bigger fish to fry here,” Sam interjects, “Amara’s in the wind.” 

“You said you were close. How did she get away?” Cas asks. 

“I’m sorry what part of God’s freaking sister did you not understand? She overpowered me. End of story.” 

Dean sees the look Cas and Sam share, and he does not like it one bit. 

Sam still won’t drop his visions. He insists they’re coming from God, and that God’s showing Sam Lucifer’s cage. Dean has a vision of driving to the liquor store. 

Sam sees a burning bush, and there’s nothing Dean can say that will dissuade him. Dean decides to help him, so he can do all he can do to keep Sam safe. He knows Sam wouldn’t hesitate to do it without him. 

Cas texts him mundane updates of what he’s up to. Dean is sure Cas is behaving more recklessly than he makes it sound, but Dean’s blood pressure appreciates it. 

There’s a massacre at a church and a nearby park that screams Amara, so Dean reluctantly leaves Sam with Crowley and Rowena. That way, they can work on the spell to talk to Lucifer without opening the cage. “Don’t do anything until I get there,” Dean says, hanging up his phone. 

Dean is at the park when the hair on the back of his neck stands up. He slowly looks around, but there’s nothing apparent that should be giving him the chills. Sam is calling him, and his finger hovers over the accept button when he looks up, straight at Amara. She’s grown since the last time Dean saw her, back to what she looked like at their first meeting. Dean can feel his draw to her, even though he doesn’t want anything to do with this fucked up _bond _between them. His feet propel him towards her against his will. “You felt my presence. That’s why you came here,” she says with a self-satisfied smile. 

Dean just looks at her, words floating around in his brain, but nothing comes out. She puts a hand on his arm and transports them somewhere else, to some lake, away from the crowded park. “You grew up,” Dean says, his voice finally deciding to obey him. 

When Dean asks her about all the killing she’s done, she explains, “I had to get his attention. God. I tried praying, calling out in need. He ignored me. He forced my hand. I had no other reason to harm his chosen. My issue is with my brother, not his creation.” 

“Whatever. That mess is your mess. It’s between you two, but you’re taking other people’s lives, their souls.” 

“I consumed their souls. They aren’t gone. They’re a part of me, and in that way, they’ll live forever,” Amara says, like she’s done these people a favor. 

“I see your wariness, the mistrust. I don’t blame you. It’s incredible how all the propaganda he created endures. He exiled me and passed on stories that I was a threat,” she continues. 

“While your brother was going all Kanye, blowing his horn.” 

“He encouraged religions as monuments to his ego, promised the fearful safety if they’d adore him. His way or the highway.” 

“Some people find comfort in that. Golden rule, brother’s keeper. It is his universe. His rules,” Dean defends, but it’s not like he’s ever been God’s biggest fan. 

Amara latches on to that. “What if there were no rules? No pain. No prayer. Just bliss. That feeling that you have when you’re with me. For everyone. Forever.” Amara takes a step towards him, and Dean’s legs won’t cooperate when he tells them to back up. 

“I was the beginning, and I will be the end. I will be all that there is,” she says. 

“That would make you God,” Dean says, turning his back to her so he can reach for the angel blade inside his coat. 

“No, God was the light. I am the dark. That’s all you need to know for now.” 

Dean turns back towards her and plunges the blade into her. Instead of the blade meeting squelching flesh, though, it reverberates and shatters against her torso. “You had to know that was pointless. I know that you’re a warrior, and your instinct is to resist, but I can’t be resisted.” 

Amara takes another step towards him and takes his face in her hands. His feet are rooted in the ground, and he thinks, this is it, now he’s going to learn what it’s like to be soulless, but suddenly her lips are on his. Dean’s frozen for a second before his mouth starts moving against hers. He blanks out for a second as a wave of headiness crashes over his head. 

He pulls back. “What was that?” he demands, wiping his mouth. 

“The future. The inevitable result of our first meeting, what you’ve been feeling since that moment, what we both felt. We’re bonded. You’re the one who set me free.” 

Dean shakes his head. “No. That was an accident.” 

“It was destiny. You bore the mark. I am the original mark. You and I will be together.” 

Dean backs away. “That’s not going to happen.” 

“It’s so simple. We will become one. Why wouldn’t you want that?” she asks, tilting her head. 

Before Dean can think of a response that isn’t going to have her changing her mind and sucking out his soul right there, three angels show up, brandishing their blades. 

“Amara!” the leader shouts, “You’re going to surrender to us and to the judgement of heaven. If you resist, each and every angel in the skies will smite in you in a single blow.” 

Dean holds up his hands. “Whoa, whoa, fellas, dial it down a bit. Look, if you take her down, a whole bunch of people are going to die.” 

“We’re at the point where sacrifice is inevitable,” he says. 

Amara moves toward them, and Dean watches in horror as she kills all three without ever touching them. Dean turns to her. “What have you done?” 

Dean looks up at the sky and sees dark clouds forming. He hears thunder rumbling. Amara just looks at him steadily. “Maybe now, he’ll hear me,” she says before Dean finds himself back in that park. 

He yanks his phone out and calls Cas. “Dean?” Cas’s voice asks from the speakers. 

“I need your help,” Dean gets out. 

“Are you alright? Where are you?” 

Dean gives him the name of the park and looks to the north. “There was this huge flash of light; something angel-y went down. I think it was about Amara,” Dean trails off. 

I’m on my way. I’ll be there soon.” 

“Yeah. I’m going to start driving to the blast site, so just head that way. You’ll be able to tell,” Dean says before he hangs up. 

He really doesn’t want to admit that Amara seems to like him, as if he’s some sort of pet. He wonders if he should tell Cas about the kiss. Probably, he decides, but it can wait until they get this figured out and he’s had a shower. He feels uncomfortable in his skin. 

He hurries to Baby and starts driving. He tries to call Sam, and then Crowley, but neither is answering his phone. He swears to God, if they went to the cage without him… 

All of a sudden, his vision starts to blur, and he starts choking for breath. He pulls Baby to the shoulder of the road and scrambles out before his breakfast makes an appearance. “Dean? I came as soon you called,” Cas’s voice says, and then there’s a hand on Dean’s shoulder. 

Dean is having trouble focusing on Cas’s face, so he just thuds his head back against Baby’s side. “You’re not alright,” Cas says from his spot crouching in front of Dean. 

“Obviously,” Dean groans, “What’s wrong with me?” 

Cas puts his hand on Dean’s forehead, and Dean tries not to lean into the touch. It’s less pleasant when Cas pulls at Dean’s eyelids to look into his eyes. “What’re you doing?” Dean mumbles. 

“Stick out your tongue.” 

Dean looks at him. “What?” 

Cas just stares back at him, so Dean relents. “Are we done?”

“No. Let me take your temperature,” Cas says, sticking up his finger. 

Dean’s face flames. Maybe Cas is going to stick it in his ear, but he’s not going to chance it. He bats Cas’s hand away. “That’s not going to happen.” 

Cas sits back on his heels. “How far away from the event are we?” 

“Ground zero is about a mile down that way.” 

“That explains it. You’re suffering from smiting sickness. The closer you get to the blast site the worse your sickness will become.” 

“How worse?” Dean asks. 

“The last time there was a smiting of this magnitude, Lot’s wife turned to salt. Dean, you need to go back,” Cas insists. 

“No, we have to see if it worked, see if Amara is alive or dead.” Dean struggles to stand up. 

Cas arches an eyebrow at him. “_We_ don’t. The fallout doesn’t affect angels. I’ll go in alone.” 

Dean wants to protest, but his vision is still hazy, and he feels like he’s going to vomit again. “Okay. It’s probably better that way. I’ll take a drive and go check on Sam.” 

Dean gets back to the bunker, but Sam’s not there. Dean’s phone rings with Crowley’s number. “Where are you? Where’s Sam?” he demands. 

Crowley hesitates. “There was a bit of a hiccup. Your brother is in Hell, with Lucifer.” 

Dean gapes. “You have better be shitting me right now. You come and get me right now, Crowley!” 

“That’s probably not a good idea. I shouldn’t leave them unattended.” 

“How do I get there, then?” 

On the way there, he calls Cas and leaves him a message about the passageway Crowley described. “Hey, Cas, I know you’re fighting the good fight right now, but, uh, I need you here. I’m going to Hell.” 

Crowley explains to him that the warding failed because Rowena wanted Lucifer out, for whatever godforsaken reason. “We need Mother to slam the devil back in his hole,” Crowley says. 

Dean tugs at his hair. “Well, is she going to play ball?” 

“She doesn’t have a choice,” Crowley says, opening a box with a spiked collar inside. “It’s called a witch catcher.” 

He tells Dean if they can get it on Rowena, she’ll be forced to perform the spell for them. That’s good enough for Dean.

“How long is this going to take?” Dean asks, scowling down at Rowena as she works on the spell. 

“About five minutes. Unless Sam says yes. If Lucifer finds a vessel, he’ll be anchored to earth. The incantation won’t work.” 

“And then we’re screwed.”

Heavy footsteps pound in the hallway. Dean looks up to see Cas barging through the door. “Amara,” he pants, “she’s alive. She sent this message.” Cas pulls his shirt open to reveal the words _I am coming_ carved into his chest. 

Dean’s more than a little alarmed. “Is that a threat?” Crowley asks. 

“Or a promise,” Dean suggests. 

Dean walks over to Cas to trace his fingers over the letters. They’re deep, and if Cas wasn’t an angel, he’d worry about them getting infected. “Are you all right?” Dean asks softly. 

“I’m fine. They don’t hurt too badly. I just can’t heal them because they’re from Amara. She’s a lot stronger than me,” Cas smiles ruefully. 

“Yeah, me, too. Don’t worry about it.” 

Rowena is still grinding away at her ingredients when Dean hears Sam let out a sharp cry. Dean races to the sound, Cas on his heels, and finds himself looking at the cage. “Don’t!” Crowley warns, but it’s too late. 

Dean finds himself face to face with Lucifer, Cas by his side and Sam against the bars, his face bloody from Lucifer’s blows. 

Cas lunges for Lucifer, and Dean takes the distraction to rush over to Sam. “Are you okay?” he asks. 

Sam grunts a yes. He struggles to sit up. “We can’t win,” he says. 

“We don’t have to win. We just have to last a few minutes.” 

Dean glances over to see Cas losing to Lucifer, taking punch after punch, so he hurries over to take some of the brunt on himself. Lucifer gets in a few hits before he grabs Dean by the throat and holds him dangling on the tips of his toes. “All right, Sam, I’m going to make this easy for you. You say the magic word, or your brother dies.” 

Cas tackles Lucifer, and his grip on Dean loosens enough for him to break free. It only takes a second before Lucifer has his foot on Cas’s angel blade and the other on Cas’s chest. “Last words?” Lucifer asks. 

Dean stares with wide eyes, wishing he was strong enough to fight off the devil, but Lucifer suddenly disappears. Dean looks around at Sam and Cas in relief. “Holy shit. We did it.” 

He smiles. 

After, when they’re all standing next to Baby, Dean asks Cas, “You all right?” 

“I think so. I will be.” 

“You want me to give you a lift?” Dean offers. 

“No, you two go on ahead. I’ll catch up.” 

Dean really would have liked Cas to come back with them, but he supposes Cas wants to continue his search for Amara. Dean gets in the car. 

As they’re driving, he turns to Sam. “Are you okay? Being in the cage again had to have been tough.” 

“Yeah. Uh, no, I’m not okay. It’s just going to take a little time.” 

Dean opens his mouth, and Sam fixes him with a look. “No, I don’t want to talk about it.” 

Dean lifts a hand off the wheel. “Hey, that’s what you’re always asking me! I was just returning the favor!” 

Dean sends Cas a couple of texts over the next few days, but Cas doesn’t reply. Dean guesses he’s licking his wounds over Amara, but would it kill him to just let Dean know? 

Dean finds a case near the bunker in a retirement living facility. It seems like an easy enough salt and burn, and Dean is practically climbing the walls. 

They start poking around and find it’s not as cut and dry as it had seemed. They figure out it’s a banshee, but they don’t have the right weapons in the trunk to fight it. Dean makes a run back to the bunker to get the golden blades. 

As he walks down the hall, he hears a thud from one of the rooms. He pulls out his gun and slowly moves toward the sound. He kicks the door open, but it’s Cas. “What the hell are you doing, man?” Dean asks. 

Cas doesn’t answer, just says, “Hello, Dean.” 

Dean frowns. Cas is standing in the middle of at least ten different books flipped open with his sleeves rolled up. Dean’s eyes catch on his forearms. “We don’t hear from you for days, you show up, you start wrecking the joint.” 

“I’m sorry,” Cas says. 

“Okay. What are you doing?” Dean asks, trying to read some of the open books. 

Cas turns around to look at him. His tie is loosened around his throat. “I’m looking for a spell, something to draw Amara out, but there’s nothing,” he says in frustration, “I had her in my sights. She was hurt. I should have ended it. How many more chances are we going to get?” 

“Yeah, I know. Saying you’re going to kill her is one thing, but actually doing it? That’s something totally different. I’ve had two shots at Amara. I’ve struck out both times.” 

“What are you talking about?” Cas asks. 

“I don’t even know where to start,” Dean says. 

He knows he’s told Cas about the first time he went up against her, but not the whole truth. And he’s been pretty tight lipped about the most recent time. 

“Dean,” Cas says, looking at him intently, “Tell me everything.” 

Dean explains what happened, but he still can’t bring himself to look at Cas and tell him that he kissed Amara. Everything had been going so well between them lately, and Dean doesn’t want to mess this up. 

“I tried to kill her,” Dean says, flopping his hands against his side. 

“Well, the two of you are connected by the mark.” 

“Yeah, no, it’s, uh, more than that,” Dean hedges. 

“Attraction?” Cas asks, turning from his book to look at Dean. 

When Dean doesn’t answer, Cas tilts his head in frustration. “Oh, Dean.” 

“I know. I know,” Dean says, fumbling around with the blade he came to retrieve. 

He doesn’t want to look at Cas and see the hurt and disappointment Dean is sure is there. “Whatever it is,” Dean continues, “Attraction, connection, I got to tell you, man, it scares me. I don’t know that I can stop it. I don’t know that I can resist it.” 

Cas puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder. “Hey, it scares me, too. But we will find out what this is. I promise.” Cas looks at him earnestly. “In the end, this may help draw her out. This could be a good thing.” 

Dean swallows and looks back up at Cas. At that moment, his phone rings, and he sees it’s Sam, so he takes a step away from Cas. Sam tells him to look up some old Man of Letters, and then he tells Dean that there’s another hunter, Eileen, who was working their case undercover, and that she’s a legacy, too. “Cas, I have to get back to Sam,” Dean says as he hangs up his phone. “Listen, what we talked about, let’s just keep that between you and me until we know more, okay?” 

“Dean, that’s not—” Cas starts, but Dean cuts him off. 

“Just trust me.” 

“All right,” Cas relents, stepping towards Dean and setting a hand on his shoulder, “But the next time you face Amara, you won’t be alone.” 

Dean searches his eyes. “Thanks, Cas.” 

Dean walks away, but Cas stops him again. “Dean, wait.” 

Dean comes back into the room, and Cas steps up to him, putting a hand on his chest and carefully studying Dean’s face. 

Dean blurts out, “Um, she kissed me. And, uh, full disclosure, I kissed her back. I’m sorry, man. It was freaky, like I couldn’t control myself. Believe me, the only person around here I want to have a weird ass bond with is you.” 

Cas looks at him for a beat, then takes a step back. “Oh,” he says. 

“Yeah,” Dean replies, his heart plummeting. “I’m sorry,” he says again. 

“I… need some time to think,” Cas says. 

“Sure, man. Text me, okay?” 

Later, after the case is over, he tells Sam about Cas’s visit. “Something seemed a little off about him.” He hopes it was just the news about Amara that had him off his game, but he was acting weird before Dean even mentioned it. 

“Something always seems a little off about Cas,” Sam says, but it doesn’t make Dean any more at ease. “Being so close to Lucifer probably wasn’t easy for him, either,” Sam continues. 

Dean thinks Sam has a point. Lucifer had killed him with just a snap of his fingers before, after all. “We’ll just keep an eye on him,” Dean decides. 

A couple mornings later, Claire calls him with a case. “We’re there,” Dean agrees readily. 

He needs something to take his mind off the radio silence from Cas, after all. 

They get there, and Jody insists it’s not a monster. Dean shrugs. “We figured we owed you a visit, anyway.” 

Dean and Sam savor the meal that Jody cooked while Claire explains what’s going on. “Three people are missing,” she says, glaring at Jody. 

“There’s no evidence they didn’t skip town on their own! Two of them were runaways, one was a homeless guy,” Jody says. 

“There’s something out there!” Claire cries indignantly. 

“Well, we’ve hunted on less,” Sam says. 

It turns out that there really are vampires, and they’re there for Alex. They take care of them, and Dean thinks maybe he gets through to Claire about being a little bit more grateful to Jody. 

_He _would be really grateful, though, if Cas would just text him. Dean wants to give Cas his space and not smother him, but at the same time, Dean is suffocating with the worry. Did he really just lose one of the best things in his life he going for him? 

When Cas finally texts him, it’s not what he had expected, to say the least. 

Cass: _Hello, Dean. Happy Valentine’s Day. Did you know that it’s another day that people Christianized? It was originally the date of a Pagan fertility festival (;_

Dean had been holding his breath hoping Cas wasn’t dead in a ditch somewhere, and here Cas is sending him a winky face? That means he must want to _celebrate_ Valentine’s Day with Dean, right? 

Dean throws his inhibitions out the window. 

Dean: _What are your plans for today, handsome?_

Cass_: Depends on yours. I don’t have anything pressing. _

Sam isn’t going to question him leaving on Valentine’s Day, but if he stays in, that’s going to bring up questions he is most definitely not ready to answer. 

Dean: _I’ll book us a motel? Honey room suite? if you’re in the area, that is_. 

Cass: _I can be there at 5_

Dean: _see you soon. I’ll text you the info after I make the reservation :D_

Maybe he didn’t irreparably fuck things up between them, after all. Dean smiles down at the glow of his phone screen.

Dean slips out of the bunker early enough that it gives him way too much time to dither. Should he get anything for Cas? If Cas were to get Dean something, he’d probably appreciate food the most, but Cas hasn’t been eating anything since he got his mojo back. Maybe he’d like it if Dean got him some coffee with a metric fuck ton of sugar, though. It seems to be a universal thing for angels to like sugar; they’re all just mostly better at hiding it than Gabriel. 

Dean pulls into a Starbucks. He shudders. The things he does for lo— like? Lust? Plain old friends with benefits? He goes inside so he can ask the barista her opinion on what to get for Cas. She coos at him when he tells her it’s for his boyfriend (what was he going to do, tell her it’s an apology for his fuck buddy?), but she’s helpful, and Dean settles on an iced coffee with three different flavor shots in it and a fist full of sugar packets. 

His next stop is a drug store to pick up some lube and condoms, just in case. He finally pulls into the motel lot. He goes into the office to pay and pick up his keys, ignoring the leer the desk clerk gives him. Dean walks to his room and swings the door open. A little grimy, but it’ll do. He gives the bed a bounce to test it out and deems it satisfactory. He pulls out his phone and looks at the time. Cas should be here any minute. 

Dean’s debating trying out the magic fingers when there’s a knock on the door. Dean gets up, nervously tugging his shirt down and smoothing his hair. He looks through the peephole out of habit and confirms it’s Cas before pulling the door open. “Hello, Dean,” Cas purrs as he slinks up to Dean and immediately draws him into a deep kiss. Dean’s eyebrows raise, but he goes with it. He’s happy to see Cas, too, after all. Cas kicks the door shut before pulling Dean’s flannel off of his shoulders. Dean pulls back. “Slow down, dude. We have all night.” 

“Of course, Dean,” Cas says before moving his attention to Dean’s neck. Dean tilts his head to give Cas better access and closes his eyes. He feels Cas sucking on the skin there, and Dean can admit it presses a lot of his buttons. Dean leads Cas over to the bed, and Cas pushes him onto it, falling on top of him. Cas is so beautiful looking down at Dean with his big eyes. Dean feels his breath catch. He rolls them both over onto their sides, so they can actually talk. Dean pushes Cas back before he can surge forward and catch Dean’s lips again. “So what have you been doing lately, Cas?” Dean asks. 

Cas shrugs. “Not a lot. Searching for a way to defeat Amara, you know how it goes.” 

“Actually, I don’t, because you haven’t texted me.” 

“Sorry, I’ve been busy,” Cas defends before leaning in to kiss Dean again. Dean doesn’t want to not get laid on Valentine’s Day, so he lets the deflection happen, even though he rolls his eyes. He opens up for Cas’s demanding tongue and finds himself moaning into the kiss. Cas sits them up, so he can tug off Dean’s shirt. “Maybe you want to take off the trench coat?” Dean suggests. 

Cas looks down like it hadn’t even occurred to him before shedding it. He slowly loosens his tie and slips it over his head, maintaining eye contact with Dean the whole time. Dean reaches out to work on the buttons to Cas’s shirt. Dean undoes the top button before tilting his head down to briefly kiss Cas again before working the next button open. While Dean is doing that, Cas works on the button and zipper of Dean’s jeans. When he accomplishes that, Dean sheds them and finishes the buttons on Cas’s shirt, ripping the last one off in his haste. Whatever, Cas can just mojo it back on. Cas takes off his pants, and then they’re both sitting there in their boxers. Dean slides his off, and Cas follows suit. 

He stares at him, taking it all in. It’s the first time he’s seen Cas naked that wasn’t in the dark or under blankets, and he hesitates. Cas doesn’t have the same qualms, however, and he reaches forward to take Dean’s cock in his hand. It doesn’t take very long to stroke Dean to full hardness, and that spurs Dean into action. He catches Cas’s hand. “Cas, I want…” he trails off. 

Cas looks at him intensely. “What? What do you want?” 

Dean gets up and walks over to the bag he got from the drug store earlier. He takes the lube out and presses it into Cas’s hand. “I want to ride you,” he says. 

Cas looks at him with wide eyes. “Okay,” he agrees breathlessly. 

He snaps the cap open and pours lube on his fingers. “Lay down on your stomach,” he directs Dean. 

Dean complies, even though his nerves skyrocket without being able to see Cas. He calms down a little when he feels Cas’s warmth behind him, between his legs. Cas drapes himself over Dean to worry at the spot on Dean’s neck a little more. When he bites down, Dean yips, and flails a hand back in Cas’s direction. Cas catches the hand and soothes his tongue over the spot. With his other hand, he circles a finger around Dean’s hole. Dean tries to relax, but Cas didn’t give the lube quite enough time to warm up, and the cold sensation makes him clench up. Cas presses the tip of his finger in. Dean’s fingered himself before, so this isn’t completely new, but it is weird to have something in his hole that he isn’t putting there himself. Cas pushes down to the next knuckle. “I’m good,” Dean mumbles.

Cas responds by sticking in a second finger. Dean feels a slight burn at the intrusion, but it quickly fades, and he just feels a pleasant stretch. He rocks his ass back against Cas’s fingers. Cas presses down on Dean’s ass with his other hand, signaling for Dean to stop and just take it. He whines, so Cas indulges him and puts a third finger in. Cas moves his fingers around until he hits Dean’s prostate. “Oh, shit, Cas, right there.” 

Cas guides a couple of Dean’s fingers to settle on his perineum, so he can feel Cas’s fingers inside of him. Dean has a rush at that, and when Cas leans back down to keep sucking on his neck, he knows he’s going to have an impressive bruise. He can’t bring himself to care. Cas pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the bedspread. That’s the nice thing about motels, Dean figures. He tugs the lube out of Cas’s hand, so he can take over. He guides Cas to lay back, settling him on a couple of pillows, making sure his head is supported. Dean gives Cas’s cock a few rough strokes before opening the lube and drizzling some over Cas’s cock. Dean’s impressed he doesn’t flinch from the cold, but he guesses things like that don’t really bother Cas. He bends down to give Cas one more messy kiss before he lines himself up with Cas’s cock. He slowly sinks down, releasing the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His thighs are starting to quake from the effort before he finally bottoms out. “Fuck, Castiel,” Dean breathes. 

Cas throws his head back and moans, “Holy fuck.” 

It always gets Dean a little hot and bothered when Cas swears, so that spurs him on to start moving himself up and down Cas’s shaft. He moves his hips around, searching for the perfect angle. He moans when he finds it. Cas starts to thrust up against him, and Dean flips them over again so he’s on his back looking up at Cas. He hooks his ankles around Cas’s back, and Cas pounds into him. Cas’s mouth gravitates back to Dean’s neck and along his collar bone. Cas seems to be taking much more of an interest in marking him up than he ever has before. Dean supposes this has something to do with Amara. Cas takes Dean’s cock in his hand, and Dean groans from the combined sensation. Dean loses track of time as Cas thrusts in and out of him, spreading precum up and down his shaft, until Dean is seeing white as he comes. He must spasm around Cas because a few seconds later, Cas follows him over the edge. The lightbulb in the lamp next to the bed shatters. “Oops,” Cas shrugs. 

Dean snorts and gestures for Cas to lay down beside him. Cas mojos them clean before Dean has recovered enough from the post orgasm haze to get up to get a washcloth. Dean leans forward to capture Cas’s mouth in a lazy kiss. It’s not as urgent as the one they had at the door, but it’s just as charged with emotion, at least for Dean. Cas indulges him for a minute before pulling back. “I have to go, Dean. I have some more leads on Amara to pursue.” 

Dean reluctantly lets him up, frowning. He had thought Cas was going to stay here, at least for a while. Did Cas really just want a quick fuck? 

Cas gives him a wave before walking out the door. Dean collapses back on the bed, scowling. This isn’t some sketchy pay by the hour motel, so he might as well stay the night and get his money’s worth. He gets up and fishes out some quarters out of his pants pocket to feed into the magic fingers. 

The coffee sits on the table, untouched. 

The next morning, Dean stumbles back into the bunker to find Sam sitting at the kitchen table. “Is that a hickey?” Sam asks him smugly as Dean sniffs a carton of Chinese takeout. 

“And? It was Valentine’s Day. I can’t help it if I’m a hopeless romantic.” 

“You got half of that right,” Sam snarks. 

Dean scowls at him, but he’s glad he hasn’t clued Sam in onto anything going on with Cas because no, he doesn’t fucking want to talk about it. “Just doing my civic duty. Helping all the single ladies. You know the best thing about February 14th? You don’t have to be Mr. Right, just Mr. Right Now.” 

“That’s classy.” 

“Yeah, and what’d you do, Judgy?” 

Sam found a case. Dean sighs. Of course he did. 

It’s looking like they’re dealing with shifters that are going around and tearing people’s hearts out, but they have no idea who the shape shifter might be. “I need a beer, regroup, get lucky,” Dean says. 

“Didn’t you just get lucky?” Sam asks. 

“That was in Kansas. What do you say? You with me? Ready to go scrape a few hearts off the barroom floor?” Dean offers, knowing full well that Sam won’t take him up on his offer. 

“I think I’ll pass. I’m going to go hit the lore, but you go be you,” Sam says. 

Dean does drive to a bar, but only so he can sit in the parking lot and call Cas. He answers, but he’s a little dismissive of the whole thing, like it was just another night for him. Dean grits his teeth. Dean pulls out of the bar parking lot and goes to a theater, thinking a good movie would be able to get his mind off of Cas. The movie choices are limited, so Dean ends up seeing the latest romantic comedy. He does not succeed in getting his mind off of Cas, but at least in the movie, nobody gets fucked and then gets left hanging while they’re feeling pretty damn vulnerable. 

Dean huffs a breath out of his nose at the stupidly cheesy ending. There’s a “Ten years later” that shows the couple ridiculously happy, married, and with kids. Dean feels an ache in his chest, but that kind of ending has never been in the cards for him. 

_Many dreams come true_

_And some have silver linings_

_I live for my dream_

_And a pocket full of gold_

“Hey, any luck?” Dean asks when he gets back to the motel. 

“No, you?” 

“Nah. Hey, what’s a dad bod?” It had been referenced in the movie he saw, but his understanding of it seemed a little harsh to Dean. If he could stop fighting for his life from monsters and manage to put on a few pounds, he definitely would. 

Sam’s smirk as he gets ready to answer is interrupted by frantic knocking at their motel door. Dean puts a hand on his gun and opens the door. The widow from their case scrambles into their room and locks the door behind her. “Hey, there,” Dean says, “Everything okay?” 

“No. Dan tried to kill me,” she says in a way that’s a bit too calm. 

“Dan, your dead husband, Dan?” Dean asks her, just to be doubly sure. 

“You told me to come to you if anything strange or out of the ordinary happened? Well, it did, and I think it’s my fault.” 

She explains that her hairdresser was a witch and gave her a spell to help her win her husband back after she discovered he was cheating, but instead, he ended up dead, and now something with his face is trying to kill her. They decide the spell targets whoever was kissed by the cursed person last, so Dean takes Melissa’s face in his hands and kisses her when Dan breaks through the window of their motel room. Sam smashes a chair over his head, and they hurry to Baby to get away. 

They go to the hairdresser’s salon and discover what they’re dealing with. “Someone chants a curse, lays a wet one on you, then the victim is seduced and killed by the Qareen, but instead of taking the form of Barbara Eden, they present themselves as your deepest, darkest desire,” Sam says, looking down at an ancient looking book. 

“You know the silver lining about being cursed? I’ll finally get some face time with Daisy Duke. My deepest darkest desire,” Dean smirks. 

He can’t say he’s surprised when he’s facing down the Qareen, and Amara steps out of the shadows. 

Later, Sam isn’t surprised, either. “You seriously think the sister of God is my deepest, darkest desire?” Dean asks in frustration. 

“She isn’t?” Sam raises his eyebrows. 

“No! She can’t be!” Dean shouts. 

“Why not?” Sam asks him calmly. 

“Why? Because if she is, that means that I’m…” Dean trails off, the truth about Cas and him right there on his tongue, but he can’t make himself say it. 

“Means you’re what? Complicit? Weak? Evil?” Sam rescues him. 

“For starters, yeah,” Dean sighs. 

“Dean. Do you honestly think you ever had a choice in the matter? She’s the sister of God, and for some reason she picked you, and that sucks, but if you think I’m gonna blame you or judge you, I’m not.” 

Dean’s more relieved than he’d like to admit. 

They get a line on a hand of God that could potentially help them defeat Amara, but Dean deflates when Sam tells him it sunk with a submarine during World War II while it was on its way to the bunker. 

Dean straightens back up in his seat when an idea comes to him. He pulls out his phone to call Cas. “Hello, Dean,” Cas’s voice answers. 

“Hey, Cas. You think you’d be up for helping us out? We have a bead on a hand of God.” 

Cas sounds intrigued. “I’ll be there soon.” 

Cas is there in within a very short amount of time, and they end up agreeing, Sam albeit reluctantly, that Dean and Cas will go back in time to the submarine to retrieve the hand. 

Dean finds himself on the submarine, but Cas is nowhere in sight. That’s peachy, Dean huffs. He starts looking around for warding that could be keeping Cas away. 

Dean finds Delphine, the woman who is transporting the hand, and manages to explain the situation. There’s a ping on the sub’s radar from another ship, and Delphine grits her teeth. She does all she can to help Dean and take out the German ship with their submarine. 

Just as bright lights are bursting into being all around Dean because of Delphine’s use of the hand of God, Cas appears behind him and transports him back to the bunker. Back in the familiar setting, Dean breathes a sigh of relief, but it’s quickly turned to panic when Sam shouts, “Dean! That’s not Cas!” 

Dean whirls around to look at Cas, but he’s met with a grin that is decidedly un-Cas like. “Cat’s out!” he says, and Dean goes flying across the library table. 

Dean’s mind whirs as whatever’s wearing Cas says, “I feel a burden lifted. You know this whole deep cover thing, it just wasn’t terribly well thought out. Donning this Cas mask? This grim face of angelic constipation? It just—ugh. And then, teaming up with you two. I mean, I thought you boys were insufferable as mortal enemies, but working with you? That’s the soul crusher.” 

Dean’s thoughts land on Lucifer. He struggles to stand up, and Lucifer pins him against the wall. Lucifer goes on about how he’s going to kill them, but at least with the hand of God, he’ll be able to stop Amara. Lucifer grabs the hand and shuts his eyes, and Dean thinks this is it, but nothing happens. “Who’d have thought the hand of God would turn out to be a one hitter?” he asks. 

Lucifer stalks towards Dean, but he vanishes in a flash of light. Dean looks to Sam, with his hand slammed onto an angel banishing sigil. Dean thuds his head against the brick. It feels like the floor was pulled out from beneath him. He wonders how long Lucifer has been riding in Cas. It had to have been when they were in the cage. Dean squeezes his eyes shut. _Lucifer fucked me, _he thinks hysterically.

Sam walks over to him cautiously. “Are you okay?” 

“Why did he do it?” 

“He said he was trying to help against Amara,” Sam says. 

Dean swallows, schooling his face so he doesn’t break down right here in front of Sam. They certainly make quite the pair, two self-loathing peas in a pod. 

_The devil mocks their every step_

_The snow drives back the foot that’s slow_

_The dogs of doom are howling more_

Dean tries to keep his mind off of Cas as they go about solving cases, but it’s hard to do, especially when he keeps seeing Sam shooting him sympathetic looks out of the corner of his eye. It’s taking all of Dean’s will power not to snap at him, but he knows Sam is only like this because he cares. “We’ll get him back, Dean,” Sam assures him. 

Dean thuds his head into his hands and tries not to let his shoulders shake as the tears come. 

_Cas, if you can hear me, I need you. I miss you._

_You didn’t have to be Lucifer’s vessel just to show us you can be useful. That’s fucked up, Cas._

_Cas, there’s no leads on Amara, nothing on you, but we’ll figure this out, I swear. But you have to fight him. I know you can._

_I can’t believe you did this. Fuck you, man. How could you leave me here to deal with all this?_

When Sam nudges Dean’s bedroom door open and sees Dean sitting on the edge of his bed, praying to Cas, he doesn’t comment. “Why don’t you come eat something?” he asks instead. 

It takes colossal effort, but Dean gets up. 

Sam finds a werewolf case. Dean doesn’t want to stop looking for Amara and Lucifer, but Sam insists. “We have to get out of here. Clear our heads. I mean, this is a case. Let’s do what we do. Let’s work it.” 

The case is a total shit show. Sam gets shot five miles from a cell signal, and he can’t exactly hike it with a side wound. Dean goes outside the cabin they’re stranded in to gather some firewood. They’re stuck with two other people, and he needs to keep them alive, too. The man is pushing for them all to leave Sam, though, and get help, and it’s grating on Dean’s nerves. There’s no way in hell he’s leaving his little brother. 

When Dean comes back into the cabin with wood in his arms, he’s sees Sam lying unnaturally still. “Sammy?” he whispers, shaking him. 

There’s no response, and tears well up in Dean’s eyes. 

Dean’s ready to stay and fight any other monsters that might come, but the man, Corbin, pushes him to leave. “Help us, please,” he implores. 

It’s like claws are raking down Dean’s chest as he closes the cabin door on Sam’s body, but Dean has to do this one thing for these people, then he can come back. He sets his face and walks away. 

At the hospital, a plan swirls in Dean’s head. He can’t live without Sam, or at least Cas there, he just can’t fucking do it. He contemplates the bottle of pills in his hand. The woman he saved asks if she can help him. “After I do this, go get the doc and tell her to bring me back, if she can. If not, no hard feelings, okay?” 

Dean dies and sees Billie, a reaper. “Bring him back and take me instead,” Dean begs her. 

“I’m not here to bargain with you, kid,” Billie says coldly, “But the kicker? Sam’s not dead.” 

Dean’s head snaps up to look at her. 

“But you are. Or you will be, soon enough,” she says. 

Dean turns to look at the doctor trying to save his life. “Come along, Dean. It’s time. The empty is waiting.” Billie stretches a hand out to him, but Dean finds himself back in his body. 

He splutters and coughs. “Holy shit,” he gasps. 

Dean manages to come back to himself enough to get away from all the people who are watching over him. Standing outside the hospital, his phone rings with a call from Sam. He laughs in relief. 

Back at the bunker, he gets a call from Crowley. He has a location on another hand of God. “How do I know you even escaped Lucifer and he’s not making you say all this?” Dean asks, the mention of Lucifer leaving an acrid taste in his throat. 

“Honestly, your cynicism is depressing,” Crowley says. 

They meet up, and Crowley explains further, “I have the horn of Joshua, and I’m willing to entrust it to your capable hands.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows. “If?” he and Sam ask in unison. 

Crowley harrumphs. “Fine. I will give you the horn if you help me exorcise Lucifer from Castiel’s vessel and then return him immediately to the cage.” 

“Hold on, okay? Let’s just put it in reverse. We will put Lucifer back in the cage after we put Amara back on ice. It has to happen in that order, otherwise, there is no Lucifer, no cage, no nothing,” Dean objects. 

“He had me cleaning the floors with my tongue! He called me puppy! He made me beg!” Crowley shouts. 

“Dean’s right. Priority is to put the horn in Lucifer’s hands and set him loose on Amara,” Sam agrees. 

“After we exorcise Lucifer out of Cas and put him into a new vessel,” Dean nods his head. 

Sam looks at him in surprise. “Really?” 

“Yes, really! We’re not going to send Lucifer into battle inside Cas. What if he doesn’t make it?” 

“Dean, it’s a strong vessel. It’s held Cas for years, and we know what he’s been though. I’m guessing it can hold Lucifer.” 

“’It?’ It’s not an it, Sam. It’s Cas!” Dean crosses his arms. 

“And Cas wanted to do this. Dean, this is exactly how we screw ourselves. We make the heart choice instead of the smart choice.” 

“Oh, okay, thank you, Dr. Phil. Cas is family,” Dean spits. 

“Yes, and his choice deserves to be respected.” 

“Even if it kills him?” 

After several more minutes of arguing, they get a message from Rowena. With her help, they come to a plan. 

They set their holy oil circle and summon Lucifer. Dean slaps his palm against a sigil he had drawn earlier, designed to weaken Lucifer. “Cas! Castiel, show yourself!” Dean shouts. 

“Dean?” 

Dean can tell it’s Cas just from the register of his voice and his expressions, and he nearly melts with relief. “Cas, listen to me. We don’t have a whole lot of time, okay? You’ve got to—” Dean trails off as Lucifer gains control again. 

“Castiel, show yourself!” Dean yells again. “Cas, expel him!” 

“Honestly, I think he’s happy with the arrangement. I mean, he did invite me in and all, Dean,” Lucifer says innocently. 

“Cas!” 

Dean is taken back when Lucifer mocks his shout of Cas, and he frowns. “Hand over the weapon. What do you say? Or we can just wait for the warding to fail, and I’ll take it,” Lucifer says. 

Dean looks nervously at the ground where the flames are licking closer and closer to the floor. “Bloody hell,” he hears Crowley say behind him before red smoke forces itself into Lucifer’s mouth. 

Lucifer’s head slumps forward. Dean rubs a hand down his face. He paces anxiously while he waits for Crowley. He hears a sizzling and the putrid smell of burning flesh. He looks down at Crowley’s meat suit and sees the words _help me_ etched into the forehead. Dean snaps into action. He rustles through his duffel until he finds his holy water. Sam starts reciting an exorcism. Red smoke rushes from Cas’s mouth, and Dean looks at him hopefully. His hopes are shot down when Crowley splutters, “Useless. Lucifer’s hold on him is too strong.” 

The flames putter out, and Lucifer flicks a hand, forcing Dean to sit. He squeezes his hand, and Dean scrabbles at his throat, struggling to breathe. Suddenly, a hole is blasted in the building wall, and Dean looks over to see Amara striding through. “Oh, Lucifer. Dear nephew, my, how you’ve changed,” she says. 

Lucifer holds up the horn and channels its energy, directing a beam of energy straight to Amara. She stretches out her hands and welcomes it. When the light fades away, Amara is standing there unscathed. “I think you and I need to have a nice, long chat,” she says to Lucifer, cupping a hand to his face. 

“Cas?” Dean yells. 

Amara looks over like she’s just noticing them for the first time. She waves a hand, and they’re released from Lucifer’s hold. There’s a flash of light, and after Dean blinks it away, Amara and Lucifer are gone. Dean hangs his head. 

They drive back to the bunker in silence. Dean plunks down at the war room table and stares blankly at the wall. Sam claps a hand to his back as he passes by. 

After a week of Dean ghosting around the bunker, Sam’s had enough, and he finds them a case. Dean guesses it will be good to get out. He needs to pick up some more beer, anyway. 

On their case, they meet a pair of hunters named Jesse and Cesar. Dean mistakes them for brothers at first, but they quickly correct him. When Dean finds his voice after that revelation, he asks, “What’s it like settling down with a hunter?” 

“Smelly, dirty. Twice the worry about getting ganked,” Cesar answers. 

Dean nods along. He understands, that’s for sure. 

After the case, as they’re driving along, Dean reaches out and turns down the radio. He can count on one hand the number of times _he _has willingly turned the volume down, so it’s only natural when Sam turns to stare at him. “You okay?” Sam asks. 

Dean swallows. “Um, seeing Jesse and Cesar, uh, just got me thinking…” 

Sam looks at him expectantly. It’d probably be easier to cite Cas as an example, here, but he doesn’t exactly want to do that when he’s walking around with Lucifer controlling his meat suit. 

“I’m bi,” he blurts out. 

Sam looks at him for one nerve wracking moment, then he breaks out into a soft smile. “Thank you for trusting me with that,” he says, like Sam swallowed a brochure on _How to React When Your Loved One Comes Out_. Dean can’t say he doesn’t appreciate the easy acceptance, though, and he is so god damn happy that Sam didn’t say he knew all along, who did Dean think he was fooling? 

“You’ll always be my big brother, Dean. I love you,” Sam continues, and then Dean _knows_ he’s read one of those pamphlets; hell, it’s probably on his bookshelf, but Dean gives him a shaky grin. 

It feels like a huge weight has been lifted from his shoulders. “Thanks, Sammy.” 

“Anything else you want to talk about?” Sam asks cautiously, and Cas’s absence settles over them, making Baby suddenly suffocating. 

“Nah. That was all.” 

Dean turns the volume back up. 

_Mellow is the man who knows what he’s been missing_

_Many, many men can’t see the open road_

_Many is a word that only leaves you guessing_

_Guessing about a thing you really ought to know_

When they get back to the bunker, Dean can tell Sam wants to talk some more, but he retreats to his room and shuts the door. He tries to sleep, but it just won’t come. Amara has Cas, and who knows what she’s putting him through. 

Dean has his headphones and is staring at the wall when Sam knocks on the door. Dean gives him a grunt that is meant to mean _go away_, but apparently it’s misconstrued because Sam sticks his head in anyway. “What do you want for breakfast?” Sam asks. 

“Nothing you’re going to make,” Dean grumbles and swings his legs off the bed. 

There’s no way in hell he’s going to eat oatmeal for breakfast, he thinks as he follows Sam to the kitchen. 

They discover some murders that seem to have soullessness as the motive, so they pursue it, hoping for clues about Amara. The black smoke reappears, and Sam gets infected. Dean won’t leave Sam, so he stays with him, but for some reason, Dean’s not affected. Dean kneels beside Sam, trying not to lose his head. Dean notices something glowing in Sam’s pocket, so he takes it out. He stares at it. It’s the amulet he threw in the trash so long ago. He can’t believe Sam still has it. But, wait, it glows in the presence of God? Dean looks down and sees the black webbing on Sam’s throat clearing up. 

Dean gives Sam a crushing hug. “Come on,” he says, and they go outside where all the smoke has dissipated. People stand up groggily as they watch. Dean looks down at the amulet in his hand that is still shining. Dean looks up and sees Chuck Shurley. Dean raises his eyebrows in shock. “We should probably talk,” Chuck says. 

“What the hell is going on here, exactly?” Dean demands. 

“I’m happy to fill in the blanks, but maybe we should go somewhere where we could actually sit down.” 

“We’re not going anywhere with you. How do we even know that you’re really Chuck and not just some crazy spell or manifestation…” Dean says but trails off when he realizes they’re back in the bunker. 

They talk, Chuck dropping the G-word bombshell, but Dean deflates when Chuck says he has no idea where Amara is. “Hey, you know she’s got Lucifer, right?” Dean asks tentatively, hoping he’ll be able to help them get Cas back. 

Chuck acts dismissive of it, but Dean can see the clench in his jaw. “After all this time in prison, he’s probably worse than he was then, and by now, he could have formed an alliance with Amara. Not walking into that trap, guys.” Chuck storms off. 

Dean takes matters into his own hands. He sits alone at the war table. “Come on, Amara. Where are you?” he sighs. 

He’s struck by a vision of her, like she was waiting for him to ask. “I've missed you, Dean. It's been a while since we've spoken. I'm aware my brother has surfaced. If you should cross paths, if he should reach out to you, he should know this – Lucifer, his favorite, isn't doing so well. To say nothing of the vessel, your friend Castiel. By choosing to ignore me, my brother is allowing this to happen. These and... other things. I thought you should know.” 

Dean puts his hands in his head. That’s exactly what he didn’t want to see. 

He still can’t sleep, but at least now he can blame it on Chuck’s shower singing. 

They go to investigate another town that’s been taken over by the fog, and they find the next prophet in line, Donatello. They take him back to the bunker, but not before Dean has another vision from Amara saying they need to talk. 

He talks to Chuck. Chuck tells him that his plan is to give himself up to Amara, and then she won’t be angry anymore. “You know, we’re not just some toys you throw away. I think you owe use more than that,” Dean says. 

“If my plan doesn’t work, then humans will step up. You, Sam, others that are the chosen will have to find a way. It’s why I saved you years ago. You’re the firewall between light and darkness.” 

Dean shakes his head. “This is way above my paygrade.” 

Donatello says he can sense where Amara is. Metatron offers his help, and it’s decided that Sam, Donatello, and Metatron will sneak into Amara’s hideout to rescue Lucifer while Dean distracts her. 

“Thank you for reaching out to me. I missed you, and the sensations you arouse,” Amara says, “I know you feel the same way. What do we do?” 

“There can be no us. We should just walk away.” 

Amara fixes him with a look, a challenge. “Then why don’t you? This place, this world hasn’t been especially easy for you. Why not at least consider my offer? It’s inevitable.” 

“You’re right. I am drawn to you, and it bothers the hell out of me because I can’t control it.” 

Amara takes a step towards him and puts a hand on his face. “Then why fight it? What you are feeling is that I am the end of your struggle. Something stops you, keeps you from having it all.” 

Dean closes his eyes and turns his head away. 

“Where are your thoughts?” she asks, turning Dean’s head back towards her. “Something’s different.” 

Amara steps back abruptly. “You’ve spoken with God. You’ve betrayed me.” 

She disappears, and Dean hopes like hell that he bought them enough time. Dean calls Sam, but there’s no answer. Dean sits down on a stump. Eventually, Sam calls him back. “We did it.” 

Back at the bunker, Dean feels a jolt when he sees Lucifer wearing Cas. He knows they need Lucifer to help them defeat Amara, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it, and it doesn’t help with the lingering anger he’s harboring towards Cas for fucking off to let Lucifer possess him. 

They convince Crowley, Rowena, and one of Rowena’s friends to help them go after Amara, but she shakes off everything they throw at her. They try to lock her away again, transferring the mark of Cain to Sam (against Dean’s vehement protests), but Amara lunges at Chuck and stops him. Lucifer rushes towards her, but she flings him into a wall, and he hits it with a thud. “Cas!” Dean yells. 

Amara drops Chuck on the ground. “My brother will dim and fade away into nothing, but not until he sees what comes next. Not until he watches this world, everything he created, everything he loves, turn to ash,” Amara proclaims before vanishing. 

“Check on him,” Dean grunts, motioning Sam towards Chuck before kneeling next to Lucifer and putting a wary hand on his shoulder. “Dean,” he gasps. 

“Cas? Is that you?” Dean asks, any anger he has evaporating as he hears Cas’s voice again, sees his face and the expressions Cas chooses to put on it, not any of Lucifer’s mocking ones.

“Lucifer is gone. Amara ripped him from my body,” Cas says in wonder. 

Dean gives him a disbelieving smile. “Come on,” he says and helps Cas to stand. 

Sam is still next to Chuck. “I can feel my spark fading,” he says. 

“Tell us how to fix you.” 

“You can’t. I suppose she could, maybe, but that’s never going to happen.” 

Crowley barges through the door from outside. “Well that was a complete and utter dog’s breakfast, wasn’t it?” 

“I didn’t know dogs had breakfast,” Cas says. 

Dean lets out a shaky breath. “Cas is back.” 

His grin fades when they go outside, and it looks like the sun is trying to eat itself. 

Chuck transports them back to the bunker. “I’m not dead yet,” he says before he has to lean heavily against Sam. 

“What do we do now?” Cas asks. 

Dean walks into the kitchen and gets himself a beer. “Really?” Sam scoffs. 

“What? We hit Amara with everything we had, and she walked it off.” 

“So, it’s last call?” Sam asks. 

“That’s right. Look, man, if you’ve got something for me to punch, shoot, or kill, let me know and I’ll do it. But how are we supposed to fix the freaking sun?” 

Dean drains his third bottle and slams it on the table. “You know what, this isn’t going to be enough. You want to come?” Dean offers. 

“No!” Sam shouts in frustration. He takes a breath. “I’ll stay here, and find our plan B.” 

“Okay. Come on,” he says to Cas. 

If the sun is getting ready to explode, he at least wants to have a little more time with Cas without everyone’s eyes on them. He’d really like to have one more time with Cas in the backseat of Baby, but he doesn’t even know what Cas wants with him. All the things Dean thought he knew about him and Cas fell away when he learned Cas let Lucifer hitch a ride. Hell, even what they had when Dean had the mark of Cain, how much of that was real and not just Cas trying to keep him from going off the rails? But, hey, the world’s about to end, and he at least has to let Cas know just how important he is to Dean. 

They drive for a while before Dean sucks in a breath and looks over at Cas in the passenger seat. The sunlight makes his hair shine. “’How are doing? You good?” 

“I was just so stupid.” 

“No, it wasn’t stupid. You were right to let Lucifer ride shotgun. Me and Sam wouldn’t have done that.” 

“Well, it didn’t work,” Cas huffs. “I was just trying to help.” 

“You do help, Cas. Sometimes me and Sam have so much going on that we forget about everyone else.” 

“Well, you do live exciting lives,” Cas says. 

“Yeah, that’s one word for it. But you’re always there, you know? You’re the best friend we’ve ever had. You’re our brother, Cas. I want you to know that.” 

Cas looks over to make eye contact with Dean. It looks like he has something he’s biting back, but he says thank you anyway. 

Anything else Cas might want to say is interrupted when his phone rings. It’s Sam with an idea. Dean turns around to drive back. 

Before they walk into the bunker, Cas grabs him by the shoulder. “Wait, Dean. Let’s not pretend we’re brothers, okay? I’m sorry about Lucifer, but I don’t think you’ve done with Sam what you’ve done with me,” Cas says in a fierce rush. 

Dean blushes and drops his eyes, before looking back up abruptly. “Cas, did I—did I rape you?” Dean whispers, thinking back to what happened while Cas was possessed. 

“What?” Cas asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Dean quickly shakes his head. “Nothing. Forget it.” He’s not sure if it’s better or worse that Cas doesn’t remember.

Dean clears his throat. “Anyway, last night on earth, huh? It’s a shame we don’t have more time.” 

Cas is still squinting at him, but when Dean leans in, he drops it. Dean closes his eyes, losing himself in their gentle kiss for a beat. Cas’s breath always tastes sweet, and he savors it. Cas is the one to pull back and rest his forehead on Dean’s. “Let’s just go with family, okay?” Dean decides. 

Cas gives him a tentative smile before straightening his clothes and beckoning for Dean to go into the bunker. Dean presses one last kiss to Cas’s cheek, then steels himself for whatever lies ahead. 

Sam wants to kill Amara, not just lock her away. “Chuck is dying. There has to be balance,” Sam insists. 

“I’m game, but how exactly are we going to do this?” 

“She does seem impossible to destroy,” Cas says. 

“Is she, Chuck?” Sam asks. 

Chuck hesitates but says light is her weakness. 

Ideas are offered up, but none seem feasible until Cas suggests souls. “They’re living batteries. They’re full of energy and light. Each one is as powerful as one hundred suns.” 

“You get me enough souls, then I can build a bomb,” Rowena says. 

Cas goes to heaven, Crowley to hell, and Sam and Dean to Waverly Hills Sanatorium. They’re hoping there’s enough ghosts there in the veil to be helpful. Rowena gives them a crystal she says will absorb the ghosts. They get them, but when they return to the bunker, Cas says heaven has refused to help, and Crowley says his soul stash in hell was raided. Dean huffs a breath and crosses his arms. A light flickers in the bunker, and then the red safety lights go on. Dean hears the door creak open before Billie appears. “I saw you boys at Waverly Hills, and call me a curious kitten, but with, you know, credits about to roll, I have to ask why are you boys busting ghosts?” 

“We’re collecting souls to build a bomb,” Sam explains. 

“To blow the Darkness to Hell,” Dean chimes in, hoping maybe Billie will offer her help. 

She does, and they stare at the glowing bomb. “We good?” she asks. 

“Very,” Rowena answers, sounding pleased. 

“Well, now we have the bomb, we just have to find Amara.” 

“I can track her. She’s not warded anymore. Why would she be? She won,” Chuck says bitterly. 

“We need somebody to get close to her, someone with a personal connection,” Cas says, and everyone’s eyes turn to Dean. 

Dean swallows, but he can’t say this was unexpected. “Well, what are we waiting for? How do I smuggle this thing?” Dean asks. 

“You won’t carry the bomb. You’ll be the bomb,” Rowena says. 

Well, that’s just par for the fucking course. 

“Okay,” Dean agrees, even as Sam and Cas shoot him furtive looks. 

Rowena puts the bomb in his chest, and Dean hunches over in pain. 

“Dean, are you okay? How do you feel?” Cas asks worriedly. 

“Like my insides just got flame broiled,” Dean jokes weakly. 

“I want to go see my mom’s grave,” he announces after he straightens back up. 

No one is about to deny him his dying wish, so they go. 

He stares at the words etched into the tombstone. 

“Dean, you know you don’t have to do this,” Sam says. 

“Of course, I do. I just have to get close. I can do that.” 

“You know, if this works, if that bomb goes off,” Sam starts to say, but Dean cuts him off. 

“I know.” He claps Sam on the shoulder and walks back towards the car where Cas, Crowley, Chuck, and Rowena are waiting. 

Dean is talking to Chuck when Cas walks up behind him. “Dean,” he says with a pained expression. 

Dean swallows. “Cas,” he gets out, and then Cas is pulling him into a hug. Dean hugs him back and wills any tears away. They hold onto each other for a few seconds before pulling back to look each other in the eyes. “I could go with you,” Cas offers. 

Dean shakes his head. “No, no, no. I have to do this alone. Listen, if, when this works, Sam, he’s going to be a mess, so look out for him, make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” 

“Of course,” Cas intones, but his eyes are screaming _Who’s going to look after me?_

Dean puts a hand on Cas’s shoulder. “Thank you. For everything.” 

Dean searches Cas’s eyes, willing him to understand everything Dean isn’t saying. Cas nods, and Dean thinks he gets it. 

Dean goes back over to Sam and gives him the keys to Baby. Sam shakes his head with tears in his eyes. “Come here. You know the drill,” Dean says, and shoves the keys into Sam’s hands. “No chick flick moments.” 

“You love chick flicks,” Sam says. 

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean says, and gives Sam a crushing hug. 

Dean slaps Sam’s back and pulls away. He turns around to face everyone else. He shoots Cas a final weak smile. 

“Okay. Let’s do this.” 

Chuck snaps his fingers, and suddenly Dean’s face to face with Amara. 

Somehow Dean manages to convince Amara that she needs Chuck, that she doesn’t want to be alone. His heart is pounding the whole time, convinced she’s going to snap her fingers and kill him before he gets the bomb off, but he keeps going. He doesn’t want to die when he has so much to live for. “Put aside the rage,” he says, “Put aside the hate, and tell me: what do you want?” 

Amara makes Chuck materialize. “I wish that we could just be family again,” she says. 

“I do, too,” Chuck replies and reaches out his hand. Amara takes it and heals him. “I think we’re going to go away for a while.” 

“I get it. Family meeting.” Dean holds his hands up. 

“But first,” Chuck steps towards him and removes the bomb. 

“What about us? What about earth?” Dean asks. 

“Earth will be fine. It’s got you and Sam.” Chuck smiles. 

“Dean, you gave me what I needed most. I want to do the same for you,” Amara says before she and Chuck disappear in a column of weaving white and black. 

Dean finds himself in the middle of the woods with no cell signal. “Come on. Where the hell am I?” he asks in frustration. 

He hears a woman’s voice shouting, “Help! Help me!” and he rushes towards it. 

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees the woman. “Mom?” he whispers brokenly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: dubcon (Dean/Casifer- Dean thinks it's Cas)


	5. You're Not My Babysitter (But We Could Have Some Pretty Kinky Sex if You Were)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warnings: the gotdamn mixtape (honestly it's just too much for my heart to handle), minor Dean/other while Cas hasn't answered his phone in forever and in a memory, temporary canon major character death ):

“Are you really real?” Dean asks. 

Dean steps forward to touch her, make sure that this isn’t just a dream, but she grabs his arm and flips him on his back with her foot on his neck. 

“Where am I? Who the hell are you?” she demands. 

“I’m Dean.” Her foot presses down harder. “Winchester! Your son.” 

“No, my Dean is four years old.” 

Dean takes a shaky breath. “I was when you died.” 

Mary takes her foot off his throat, and Dean fills in some blanks, telling her things he never could have known if he wasn’t her son. “How did you know all that?” she asks. 

“Dad told me.” 

“How long have I been gone?” 

“33 years.” 

“Dean,” she breathes. 

“Hi, Mom,” he says as she moves forward to give him a tentative hug. 

Dean takes in a shuddering breath. Her scent brings memories from his childhood rushing back to him, and he lets himself be held. 

“Hey, uh, you’re cold,” Dean notices, and he takes off his jacket to put over her nightgown. 

They take a seat on the bench, and he gives her the basics of their life. “Come on. I’ll explain everything later. Let’s get you home,” he says. 

They stop at a department store, and Dean gives his mom a credit card which she squints at. “Go get some clothes, okay?” 

His mom looks down at her nightgown and gives him a grateful smile. While she looks for new clothes, Dean wanders off to the electronics. What he told his mom about her meeting with his dad is echoing around in his head, and it gives him an idea. _He was cute, and he knew the words to every Zeppelin song…_

He’s glad that cassettes are making a come back because it makes it easier for him to find a two deck cassette player and a blank cassette. He goes out and tucks it in the car he hotwired. He smiles to himself in satisfaction and goes to wait for his mom. He tries to call Cas and Sam again, but he only gets their voice mails. He hopes that it’s the solar flares that had messed things up, but he knows that’s wishful thinking. 

His mom comes out with several bags, and she smiles at Dean. They walk to the car together side by side. 

When they make it back to the bunker, there’s blood on the floor. Dean is put on high alert instantly. He pulls out his gun. He sees an angel banishing sigil on the wall, and his hackles rise. He reaches under the war room table and pulls out the holstered gun to give to his mom. “Stay here,” he says as he goes to clear the rest of the bunker. He’s circled back to the library again when he sees his mom pointing a gun at Cas. “Woah, woah, woah!” he cries, running forward. “He’s a friend!” 

“Dean!” Cas exclaims and folds Dean into a tight hug. 

Cas pulls back to look at Dean, distress written on his face. “You’re alive? But what about the bomb and the darkness? What happened?” 

“I’ll tell you everything. Where’s Sam?” 

“He’s not here,” Cas says. 

“Are you a hunter?” his mom interrupts. 

“He’s an angel,” Dean answers, “You know, wings, a harp.” 

“I don’t have a harp,” Cas protests, squinting at Dean. 

Dean quirks a smile. “This is Castiel,” he introduces. “Cas, this is Mary Winchester.” 

Cas looks at him for a beat in confusion. “Your mother,” Cas responds reverently, like he understands the significance of the meeting. 

“Yeah. So, wait. Where is Sam? He’s not answering his phone, there’s blood on the floor. What’s going on?” 

“I don’t know. We came back here, and there was a woman waiting for us. She blasted me away. I don’t know who she was. I don’t know what happened to Sam.” 

“When did this go down?” 

Cas gives him a time, and Dean looks at traffic cameras until he finds a license plate number that seems likely. They walk to the garage where Baby is, and his mom runs a hand over her in admiration. “She’s still beautiful.” 

“Hell, yeah, she is,” Dean grins until he notices his mom fixating a bit too much on the backseat. 

“Oh,” he realizes. 

His mom smirks at him, and he looks over at Cas with about a million ideas running through his head. “We should go.” 

They track down the vehicle’s owner, and after Cas roughs the guy up, he tells them about who he was driving around. They learn that the people are British and probably assholes, considering they have a private plane. He also says they went and saw a veterinarian who dug a bullet out of Sam’s leg. They go to see this vet, and Cas continues his intimidation streak and gets a phone number from the man. Dean has to say, it’s pretty nice to be able to sit back and let Cas be the scary one. Dean never knew good cop just meant standing around with his arms crossed. He could get used to this if he wasn’t so ready to burst with worry for Sam.

They call the number, but don’t learn anything useful. Dean grits his teeth at the fruitless lead they just spent a whole day chasing, and he snaps the man’s phone in half. He sees his mom shoot Cas a concerned look. 

They’re driving back to the bunker when they get t-boned by one of the British douchebags. Glass shatters, the windshield flying everywhere in pieces. Dean looks around in a daze and realizes there’s a woman approaching them, and the look on her face isn’t one of concern. The woman has knocked Dean and Cas off their feet when Dean’s mom comes up behind her and plunges a blade through her chest. 

“Thanks, Mom.” 

They get a location off of her phone, and they finally have a solid lead to direct their search. 

Later that night, when they’re in a tattered Baby headed back to the bunker, Cas looks to the back seat. He sees Dean’s mom is asleep, and he scoots towards the middle of the bench seat. He puts a hand on Dean’s thigh. Dean raises his eyebrows. “Cas, I am so not in the mood. And what are you even going to do? Give me road head?” Dean snorts. 

Cas looks affronted at the idea. “Dean, I thought you were dead.”

Dean softens at the hurt in Cas’s voice. He takes one hand off the wheel and rests it on top of Cas’s. Cas leans his head against Dean’s shoulder, and Dean takes reassurance in the warmth pressed against him. 

When they get back to the bunker, Cas convinces Dean to rest. “I’ll go check it out. I’ll call you if I find something,” he says, referring to the location, Aldrich, that they got from the phone of the woman who attacked them. 

“I should be there,” Dean protests. 

Cas leads him back to Dean’s room and directs him to sit on the bed. “Your mother just killed someone for the first time since she came back to life. Don’t you think she needs a break, and that you should be here for her?” 

Dean stares at him. “That’s just playing dirty.” 

Cas smirks. “Strategy is kind of my thing,” he says, and Dean can’t resist standing up to kiss the smug look off of his face. 

“I thought you weren’t in the mood,” Cas mumbles against his mouth. 

“I changed my mind,” Dean says and drags Cas down to the bed with him, but he swallows nervously as Cas’s hands skim his sides.

Cas pulls back to look at him. “What’s wrong?”

Dean hesitates. “Uh, when Lucifer was possessing you, he, uh, we—”

Cas stares at him for a beat in confusion before looking at him with a horrified realization. “Dean,” Cas whispers.

Dean starts to pull himself away from Cas. He doesn’t blame Cas for his reaction, who’d want to be with someone that couldn’t even recognize you were possessed by the fucking devil himself, but Cas just clings to Dean tighter. Dean looks up at him blankly as Cas strips Dean of his clothes and lathes kisses down Dean’s body. “Cas,” Dean starts, “I can’t—” but he’s cut off by a gasp when Cas brushes across sensitive areas. Dean tugs Cas back up to his mouth and unbuttons Cas’s shirt. “I can’t be the only one naked, here.” 

Cas helps him until they’re both completely undressed. Dean squeezes his eyes shut. “Dean? Are you okay? Do you want to stop?” 

_I love you_ sits in Dean’s mouth, but it won’t pass his lips. Honestly, he’s surprised he finally worked up the courage to admit it to himself. “No. I’m just so damn happy you’re here,” he says instead. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

Cas sits back, looking pleased. “This is the happiest I’ve been in millennia,” Cas whispers into his skin. 

Dean rolls Cas over, so that he’s on top. He nudges their noses together. “Glad to hear it, angel.” 

After, when Dean is lying in a boneless pile on top of Cas, Cas tries to nudge Dean off of him. “Nope,” Dean mutters, “None of this running off crap. You’re staying all night. It’s called afterglow.” 

In the morning, Cas gives Dean a thorough kiss before he leaves. On his way out of Dean’s room, Dean catches him by the wrist. “Be safe, okay?” 

To keep himself from lying awake at night, he makes a list of songs he wants to put on a tape for Cas and unearths the cassette player he bought. He stares at his list, knowing he has to narrow some down, so they’ll all fit on the tape. Dean thinks about lyrics and meanings and scratches out the ones that don’t make the cut. 

Cas finally calls Dean with news from Aldrich. “I think I may have found Sam’s location. It’s a farm. It appears empty, but it was rented two weeks ago to woman with an English accent.” 

“Did you have a look inside?” Dean asks.

“No, it’s powerfully warded.” 

Dean snorts. “Powerfully warded? Okay, see, buddy, that was your headline right there.” 

“I’ll text you the address.” 

“Okay, got it. I’m on my way,” Dean says as his phone pings with Cas’s text. 

“I’ll get my coat,” his mom says. 

“Wait. Why don’t I take this one solo, okay? We just don’t know what we’re walking into here.” 

She gives him a blank stare. “We’re hunters. We never know what we’re walking into.” 

“I can’t do my job if I’m worried about you,” Dean eventually says. 

“Dean. You won’t have to be. I can handle myself, okay? All right, good talk,” she says and brushes past him to go sit in Baby. 

Dean blows out a breath. There’s no way this is going to go bad, right? 

They meet Cas outside the house. “You brought your mother?” he asks incredulously. 

Dean’s mom steps past him and up to Cas. “Hello, Castiel. Yes, he did.” 

Cas exchanges a look with Dean. 

“You sure there’s anyone inside?” Dean asks. 

“No. The agent said the lease was handled long distance, but someone warded the house.” 

“I’m going to have a closer look.” Dean walks towards the house, his mom on his heels. “Mom, I got this,” he argues. 

She shakes her head. “You can keep me from driving, Dean. Not from hunting.” 

Dean looks to Cas for help. “I’m locked out by the warding. I could use the company,” he says stiffly. 

His mom rolls his eyes, but she stays by Cas’s side. 

Inside, things go sideways quickly, and he finds himself attacked by a woman and in chains next to Sam. “I thought you were dead,” Sam says. 

“I’m not sure that I’m not. I’ll tell you everything, okay? First off, who’s Angry Spice?” 

“She’s a Men of Letters. Uh, British Men of Letters.” 

Dean frowns. “Aren’t we supposed to be on the same team? 

He’s interrupted by the cellar door opening again. The woman breaks out her torture tools, but Dean can’t say he’s all that concerned. What could she do to him that Alastair hadn’t done a hundred times? Dean is getting a little nervous, though, when she puts a blade right next to his eye. He’s a bit attached to it. He’s really starting to sweat when their mom busts through the door. He guesses she’s going to make a habit of saving his ass. 

He’s unlocking Sam from his chair when a man descends the steps with Cas on his heels. “I’m here to extend an olive branch. We want to work with you,” the man, Mick, says. 

They’re understandably skeptical, but the man did remove all the wardings to let Cas in. “What have you got to lose except your worst nightmares?” he leaves them with. 

Cas doesn’t come back to the bunker with them, saying he needs to investigate what happened to Lucifer, but that he’ll be back soon. Dean furrows his brow. “Ugh. Is it too much to hope Amara just disintegrated him?” 

Cas trails a hand down Dean’s arm and smiles. “Almost definitely.” 

Dean would like to give Cas a goodbye kiss, but he can’t exactly do that with his mom and Sam watching. He sighs and resigns himself to keeping his hands to himself.

Back at the bunker, Dean tries to reconcile his memories of his mom with the person who he gets to know now. Dean looks at his old photos and thunks his head against the wall. He retreats to his room to work on the mixtape. At least that gets his mind off of his mom.

Cas finds his way back to the bunker two days later. Dean breaks out into a grin when he sees him. “Hey! Any news on Lucifer?” 

Cas shrugs. “Not really, but I checked out the places I had leads on. There’s nothing else that I can’t do from here.” 

“That’s what I like to hear,” Dean says, moving forward to greet him with a soft kiss. 

Cas sticks around for a few days, warming Dean’s bed at night and keeping nightmares at bay. One night, he feels Cas get out of bed, but he assumes he’s just going to the library to find a different book and doesn’t think much of it. When Cas comes back, though, he shakes Dean awake. “What is it?” Dean asks groggily. 

Cas hesitates. “I’m worried about your mother.” 

Dean sits up straighter. “Why? What happened?” 

Cas smooths a hand down Dean’s chest and shrugs. “Nothing in particular. She just doesn’t feel like she fits in. You made me watch that movie about a man out of time? I think that’s what she feels like. You should make an effort to include her more and teach her about how you live.” 

“I’m trying, Cas. It’s not like this is easy for me, either.” 

“Morning, sunshine. Some coffee?” he greets Cas a few days later. 

“No, thank you, I have to go,” Cas says as he turns and walks out of the kitchen. 

“Cas?” Sam calls after him. 

“Cas, wait up!” 

“Hey, wait a second. Where are you off to?” Sam asks. 

“Cleveland, Ohio,” Cas answers, “I have a lead on Lucifer.” 

“Okay. _We_ should go check it out,” Dean says. 

“No, the devil is free because of me. Finding him is my responsibility.” 

“You’re going to want some backup on this,” Sam insists. 

“If it is him, I will call you. In the meantime, I think you’re needed here,” Cas says with a pointed glance at Dean. 

Dean finishes the mixtape while Cas is away. He doesn’t know what occasion he’s waiting for to give it to Cas, but he’s sure he’ll know it when he sees it. 

They go on a case with their mom. After they’ve put the ghost to rest, she turns to them. “I miss John. I miss my boys.” 

“We’re right here, Mom,” Sam says softly. 

“I know, but I’m still mourning them as I knew them. My baby Sam. My little boy Dean. It feels like yesterday, we were together in heaven, and now John is gone, they’re gone, and every moment I spend with you reminds me of every moment I lost with them. I thought hunting would clear my head.” 

“Mom, what are you trying to say?” Sam asks, while Dean stands there, frozen. 

“I have to go.” 

Dean calls Cas. “Are you okay?” Cas asks when he hears Dean’s shaky voice. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just wanted to hear your voice.” 

Cas obliges, and he tells Dean the real story of Lot and his wife. 

Dean lets Cas’s voice wash over him, and he hangs up with a calmer head. 

Dean’s not as happy when he finds out Cas is working with Crowley to find Lucifer, but at the very least his mom texted him back, so some of his constant worry lessens a bit. 

Dean has to say, though, he’s pretty fucking ecstatic when he kills Hitler. He seriously considers buying t-shirts, but Sam gives him a stink eye when he mentions it. Dean gives him a glare right back and walks out of the room to call Cas. 

“Hey, guess what? Nah, you’ll never get it. I killed Hitler!” 

Cas seems confused, but he’s still supportive. “I’m happy you’re happy?” he says tentatively. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dean says, and he can hear Crowley making retching noises over the phone, but he ignores him. He’s just jealous, anyway. “How’s the search for Lucifer going?” 

“Not good. You’ll be the first to know if I find something.” 

They go with Jody to a hunter’s funeral, and their mom is there. She doesn’t say she’s coming home, but she does agree to go to breakfast with them. Dean will count it as a win. 

Cas calls him. 

“Hey. You still living out an 80s buddy comedy with Crowley?” Dean asks. 

“Unfortunately,” Cas replies. 

Dean quirks a smile, but he sobers quickly when he tells them his news that Lucifer is possessing Vince Vincente, a washed out rock star. Dean’s mood worsens even more when he catches Sam listening to his music.

They figure Lucifer isn’t exactly interested in making new music, so when Vince’s band announces they’re having a show, they agree they should check it out. 

When they meet up, Cas says, “I’ll take Lucifer. He’s my responsibility.”

“No, he’s not. He’s all of our responsibility,” Sam argues. 

“Well, the only way you’ll clear that crowd without drawing fire is if he’s otherwise engaged.” 

“Engaged in what, Cas? Killing you?” Dean asks in outrage. What the hell, he thought they had talked about Cas’s self-sacrificing bullshit tendencies. 

When Crowley says he’ll help, Dean is reluctant, but if they don’t stop Lucifer, they’ll all be dead soon enough. Dean gives in. 

Dean follows Cas when he walks away to tug him in by the lapels. He glances back behind them to see Sam engrossed in his phone. He pulls Cas in for a quick kiss. “Don’t die, all right? You have to come back to me.” 

A pleased smile crosses Cas’s face that lingers as they walk into the venue. 

Once inside, they split up. Sam and Dean try to get all the civilians out. “Hey, do you guys smell smoke?” Dean shouts, but no one pays him any heed. 

When Sam turns on the fire alarm, Lucifer raises a hand to shut it off and crank his music louder. Dean can see Crowley and Cas having a rough go of it on stage, and he tries to think quickly. He fires his gun up in the air. 

That gets people moving, but Lucifer waves a hand to close the doors. Sam is there and struggles to hold them open while people pour out. The last person escapes, and the doors slam shut, leaving just Dean, Sam, Cas, and Crowley to face Lucifer. 

Lucifer tells them he’s still mad at Chuck. “He finally apologized for abandoning me, and what’s the very next thing he does? He rides off into the sunset with Auntie Amara! This is all meaningless. You know what my plan is? I don’t have one. I’m just going to keep on smashing Daddy’s already broken toys and make you watch.” 

Lucifer’s vessel’s face is quickly deteriorating; Dean watches flesh peel off of the cheekbones. “You, uh, got a little something there,” Dean says, “I mean, face it, rock is dead.” 

“What can I say? Kicking your ass took a lot out of me. But don’t worry. Onward and upward,” Lucifer says, before white light erupts from Vince’s mouth. 

When Cas books a room at the motel Dean and Sam are staying at, Crowley rolls his eyes so hard Dean’s worried they might stay in the back of his head. No one mentions that neither Cas nor Crowley need to sleep, and Sam doesn’t comment when Dean slinks off for the night, either, telling him he’s going to a bar. “Yeah, okay,” Sam says. 

“Hey, angel,” Dean greets, closing the door behind him. “Where’s Crowley?” 

Cas shrugs. “I told him to get lost for the night.” 

Dean grins and moves forward for a hug. He lets himself find comfort in the tight hold. He can practically feel the electricity thrumming off of Cas. Dean pulls back to look at him. “Thanks for not dying.” 

Cas snorts and starts to work Dean’s shirt open. Dean catches his hand. “Uh, can we just sleep?” He’s crashing hard from their fight with Lucifer, and he would just really like some solid comfort right now. 

Dean watches as Cas’s face does something Dean can’t exactly describe. “Of course. I’ll be right back,” he says. 

Dean wonders what Cas is doing for a second, then he goes and brushes his teeth while he waits. When he hears the door open, he pokes his head out and shakes his head at Cas standing there with his needles and yarn. _I love you, _he thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. He wishes he would have brought the mix tape with him, but it’s safely nestled in a drawer in his room.

Dean pulls back the covers and slides in. He pats the space beside him. Cas settles in with his knitting, and Dean wraps his arms around one of Cas’s thighs. He feels Cas’s fingers carding through his hair as he drifts off to sleep. He doesn’t imagine Cas gets much knitting done. 

_There’s a sign on the wall_

_But she wants to be sure_

_Because you know_

_Sometimes words have two meanings_

Cas and Crowley go off again to pursue Lucifer, but they meet again when Sam and Dean end up at the same crime scene as them. It seems like Lucifer possessed the Archbishop before burning him out, so that’s just peachy. 

Cas comes back to the bunker with them, and they’re trying to get another wisp of Lucifer’s trail when Crowley shows up with the news that Lucifer’s currently riding the fucking president around. Dean drops his face into his hands. Cas pats his back in an awkward gesture that’s meant to be comforting, but Dean appreciates it all the same. 

They search for a way to get anywhere near the president. The upside to Cas moving his research center to the bunker is that Dean gets to see him way more. He can drag a hand along Cas’s shoulders as he walks past his chair, talk Cas into watching movies with him, and retreat to his bed with Cas at night. Cas is there when he wakes up in a cold sweat. Cas is saying his name, but he doesn’t register it at first. He looks up at Cas’s face, that isn’t covered in blood, and realizes he had a nightmare. Cas puts his book down and lets Dean wrap him in his arms for the rest of the night. 

The next morning, Cas is in the kitchen making Dean a cup of coffee when Dean hears the clinking of ceramic breaking. “Cas? Cas?” he rushes over when he sees Cas hunched over, clenching onto the back of a chair for dear life. 

“Something’s happened. Angel radio—there’s so many voices. There’s been a massive surge in celestial energy. A nephilim has come into being,” Cas gasps. 

“Lucifer? I didn’t know he was dating,” Dean says to cover his discomfort at the idea. 

The literal spawn of Satan? No fucking thank you, but he guesses it’s not all that surprising, considering…

The whole situation puts a time crunch on their plan to find Lucifer. They call Crowley and Rowena, saying they need to take action now. On their way there, they’re ambushed by people in a government vehicle. Lucifer must be on to them. Dean’s loath to admit it, but the British Men of Letters really helped them out in getting away. 

Of course, they want something for their help and try to recruit Sam and Dean. “Lady Bevel was a bit excitable,” the man, Ketch, tries to tell them. “We’re not like that.” 

“She tried to kill us!” Dean cries. 

Ketch shrugs. “We’re eager to collaborate. The British Men of Letters are centuries old, lads. We can offer expertise, weaponry, skills.” 

Ketch shows them his armory, and Dean bites back grudging respect. When he shows them a pulse generator that he says can drive a demon from a vessel, Dean’s curiosity is piqued. “What about a possessing angel?” Sam asks. 

Back in the bunker, Dean holds the generator up to the light. It kind of looks like the golden dragon egg from Harry Potter. What? Dean reads. Cedric’s death was a fucking travesty. 

“So, you’re going to pop Lucifer out of the president with that?” Crowley asks. 

“I hope so. Otherwise, we’re all dead. Then, Rowena zaps him back to the cage. We just have to get him here first,” Dean says. 

“We need to get ahold of this secret girlfriend Crowley found about. This Kelly,” Sam says, “Of course, she’s in the mansion with the president, which is guarded like a fortress. Only one of us has a chance of getting in there.” 

They all turn to look at Crowley. He grimaces. 

They head to a motel room that they figure will work just as well as anywhere else. They settle in to wait for Crowley to arrive with Kelly. Dean sees Cas keep shooting him looks like he wants to _talk_, but he’s gone this long without Sam finding out, so Dean’s not going to start anything with him right there. 

Crowley delivers Kelly, and her first instinct to everything they say is deny, deny, deny. If Dean were in her shoes, he’d be doing the same. It sounds pretty fucking crazy, even to him. When her hand scorches a mark onto a bible, Dean can see she’s starting to believe them. She agrees to call Lucifer and get him here. 

When the secret service does a sweep of the room before Lucifer enters, Dean is sweating bullets. There’s no way they’re not going to get found out. He hears them open a closet door, and then Cas’s voice telling them, “There’s no one in here but Kelly. Go wait in your car.” 

The door opens as they leave. Dean’s legs feel like they might stop supporting him any second, but he takes a centering breath. The door opens again, and this time, it’s Lucifer. “Kelly, what’s wrong?” he asks. 

“I told you on the phone,” she says, “I can’t have this baby.” 

Sam bursts out with the pulse generator, and it actually works. Dean honestly can’t believe it. When has their luck ever been this good? 

Sam and Dean tell Cas to leave with Kelly, and they’ll make sure the president is okay. Cas is slipping out a back door when the secret service busts in. “Hands on your heads!” they shout, “You’re under arrest for the attempted assassination of the president of the United States. 

_There it is, _Dean thinks. 

Silence has never been Dean’s strong suit, but, then again, it’s not every day he gets arrested for attempted assassination. Dean stares at the gray wall of his cell and doesn’t say a word. Dean worked a screw loose in his bed frame pretty early on in his captivity, and now he has a streak of tally marks dancing across his wall. He prays to Cas, but he’s not sure anything even gets through. If they had, wouldn’t Cas have gotten them out by now? 

_I’m so tired of this shitty food. Haven’t they ever heard of seasoning?_

_You better not be watching Dr. Sexy without me._

_I miss you._

Dean’s always hated traditional exercise, but he does it now, the only tangible thing he has to fill his days. Routines come back to him that he hasn’t followed since his dad stopped monitoring his every move. When Dean’s so exhausted that his arms can’t hold his weight anymore, he collapses on his small bed. He can feel every lump. He tries to close his eyes and not focus on them, but if he doesn’t ground himself in the here and now, his thoughts drift to memories he’s tried his hardest to forget. 

His brain gives him quite the selection of nightmares to choose from. Between the smell of his mom’s burning flesh, Sam and Cas dying, Hell, and the mark of Cain licking away at his humanity, there’s plenty of ammunition. Dean’s always been able to handle pain pretty well, but when people he love are suffering, that’s when he gets cut to the quick. 

That thought triggers memories of his dad, of trying to protect Sam, always doing everything to look after Sammy. He remembers arguing with his dad about letting Sam go on a field trip with his fifth grade class. “It costs too much,” his dad said. 

“I’ll find the money,” Dean replied, puffing out his chest. 

“What about monsters? He can’t protect himself. Do you want him to get eaten?” 

In a small voice, Dean had sullenly relented. Sam didn’t talk to him for three days. 

_There’s a feeling I get_

_When I look to the west_

_And my spirit is crying for leaving_

Dean had been doing pretty well with not dwelling on his dad since his whole thing with Cas had started. Lately, though, Dean can admit he’s losing his grip on things, and with it comes thought of John Winchester. He hates it. He does pushups, squats, sit ups, anything to calm his racing mind. 

Dean was twelve, and he and his dad had been returning from a siren case. They stopped at a diner, and in the booth next to them were two men wrapped up in each other. They looked as comfortable together as his mom and dad used to, Dean thought. His dad followed Dean’s eyes. “It’s weird, right?” he asked loudly. “Unnatural. I don’t ever want to see you do anything like that, Dean.” 

The men looked at them, one of them clenching his fists. Dean gave him a small apologetic smile. _I’m sorry_, he mouthed, and the man slumped back in his seat. 

It only took a few years for Dean to realize that not everyone’s belly got the same stab of heat his did, regardless of gender, when he saw someone attractive. His dad had told him he didn’t ever want to see Dean like that, and Dean made sure he never did. When he was 23, Dean went to a gay bar for the first time while his dad was following up on a case in Minnesota. He took a seat at the bar and looked around. He stuck out like a sore thumb, but someone sauntered up to him anyway. “Hey, handsome,” the man purred. 

Dean was still sporting a cut lip from his last hunt, so Dean glanced over his shoulder to see who the man was talking to. The man laughed and put a gentle hand on Dean’s arm. “Can I buy you a drink?” 

Dean accepted, and over the course of the night, he got to know the other man. He seemed smart and kind, and Dean smiled when the man’s hot breath tickled his ear. Dean led him by the hand to Baby. The man knelt in the footwell to give Dean a blow job, and Dean saw white as he came, clutching at the man’s hair. Dean worked his hand into the man’s pants and gripped his cock. The man gave him gentle pointers, and Dean jerked him off in the humid back seat. The man carded his fingers through Dean’s hair as they leaned against each other, catching their breath. 

When the sun came up, the man thanked Dean for a night well spent and disappeared into the hazy morning. Dean swiped a hand through the condensation on Baby’s window, so he could watch him walk away. Dean ran a hand through his hair, wishing he remembered the man’s name. 

Thinking back on the memory now, though, Dean supposes it doesn’t really matter. 

_How long have I been here? _

_I want to come home._

_Cas, I’m kind of losing it, here. _

During one of his prayers, Dean almost lets an _I love you_ slip, but he’s only going to say that when the color of what he’s staring at changes from gray to blue. 

_Are you even getting these?_

He can’t remember the way his mom’s voice sounded when she told him angels were watching over him, just his dad’s sneer as he recounted the memory back to Dean. “You can’t count on anyone to take care of you,” his dad said, “The only person you can depend on is you.” 

Dean makes a plan. 

He calls Billie and agrees to her terms. He has to get out of here, no matter the cost. Billie makes it so that they die long enough for them to be moved from their cells into the morgue. Dean’s more confident he can escape from a body bag than from the walls he’s stared at for so long he doesn’t even know how much time has passed. The only catch is that one of them has to go with her after. Dean swallows, knowing it has to be him, but he can’t stare at nothing for a second longer. Death would be preferable, at this point. He just needs to see Cas one more time, and then he’ll be good. It’ll be fine. 

When he breathes in the crisp air and feels the wind on his face, he’s not sure he’s ever welcomed anything more. They find a phone, and he calls Cas, tells him a general location of where to meet them. Cas wants more information, and Dean can’t say he blames him, but they have to get a move on. The guards are going to come after them, but after so long of being sedentary, Dean embraces it. He’s missed being a hunter. 

“You didn’t tell him?” Sam asks, eyeing Dean closely. 

Dean doesn’t have to ask about what. He knows Sam is talking about the deal he made with Billy, but Cas doesn’t need to know yet. “No.” 

When Cas and their mom find them, Dean breathes a sigh of relief. Sam gives Cas a hug, then their mom. Dean lets himself fall into Cas’s arms. They ground him, and Dean breathes him in. Dean recognizes his own shampoo in the scent. “Hey, buddy,” he greets, smiling warmly. 

They get into the car, Dean following Cas into the backseat and taking his hand discreetly. Cas looks over at him in surprise, like he thought Dean was going to be mad at him or something for not getting him out. He strokes his thumb over Cas’s knuckles, trying to ground himself in the sensation. When midnight rolls around, the car splutters to a stop. 

“It’s time,” Sam says. 

Dean takes a deep breath. He knows Sam is going to try to fight him about this, so he has to stand firm. When Billie shows up and explains their deal, Cas looks at him in horror. Dean can feel the betrayal emanating off of him, but, “There was only one way getting out of that place. We were already dead. Being locked in that cell…” Dean hesitates, “I’ve been to Hell. This was worse.” 

“At least this way one of us gets to keep fighting,” Sam adds. 

Cas shakes his head. “You don’t have to do this.”

Dean gives him a sad smile. 

“Yes, they do,” Billie says, “We made a pact, bound in blood. You break that, there’s consequences on a cosmic scale. So, who’s it going to be?” 

Dean exchanges a look with Sam, ready to step forward, but their mom beats him to it. 

“Works for me,” Billie says. 

His mom holds a gun to her head, but then a blade is sticking through Billie’s chest and white light is glowing from her eyes and the wound. She falls forward, revealing Cas behind her. “Cas, what have you done?” Dean demands. 

“What had to be done. You know this world, this sad, doomed, little world, it needs you! It needs every last Winchester it can get, and I will not let you die. I won’t let any one of you die. And I won’t let you sacrifice yourselves. You mean too much to me. To everything. Yeah, you made a deal. You made a stupid deal, and I broke it. You’re welcome.” Cas holds his head high, daring Dean to defy him. 

Dean doesn’t know what to say. He shakes his head and turns his back on Cas. Obviously, they need to revisit the whole self-sacrifice thing. Dean’s perfectly aware that he’s being a hypocrite, but he doesn’t like to dwell on that. 

The car ride back to the bunker is tense and full of awful silence. Dean refuses to sit next to Cas, and he can tell Cas still makes his mom a little unsettled, so he makes Sam squeeze in the back with Cas. Dean can see Sam rubbing his sore legs, and he feels a little bad for him, but not so much that he feels sorry.

Cas seeks Dean out at the bunker. Dean had purposely been avoiding his room, because it feels more like their room, and he’s been staring at targets in the gun range for the past half hour. Steps echo in the hallway, and they’re too light to be Sam’s. Dean sighs as Cas comes into view. Cas scowls at him. 

Dean doesn’t say anything, and neither does Cas. Cas’s stare bores into him, but Dean doesn’t waver. Cas finally gives up on waiting for Dean to say something and turns on his heel and walks away. “Good talk!” Dean calls after him. 

Later that night, back in their room, Dean realizes how difficult it is to have sex when you’re not talking to the person you’re having it with. Cas has no such qualms, however, and as he lines himself up with Dean’s cock and slams himself down on it, he moans, “Dean, you fucking _idiot_. How could you make a deal like that?” 

Dean’s hands come up to scrabble at Cas’s hips, and in his head, he declares a temporary truce on the silent treatment. “Oh, I’m the idiot?” Dean hisses and moves his head to the side, losing himself in the sensation of Cas’s tight heat for a second. “You just killed a reaper. After she told you there’d be _cosmic _consequences!” Dean shouts, his voice edging higher as Cas reaches back to pinch at Dean’s nipples. 

“Fuck, right there,” Cas murmurs. 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut as he feels the tremble of Cas’s legs. 

“Do you know how long you were gone for? I do. You were gone for, _ah_, six weeks, four days, and eight hours,” Cas whispers, “That’s too damn long.” 

Dean’s hand snakes around to wrap his hand around Cas’s cock. Cas bucks up into Dean’s fist and then rocks back on Dean’s cock. Dean throws his head back, almost thumping it on the headboard. Cas continues rocking himself up and down on Dean’s cock until he comes, thick white ropes painting his chest and parts of the comforter. Dean follows shortly after with a gasp. 

Cas lifts himself off of Dean’s deflating cock and lays next to him. Dean registers Cas’s shoulders moving and shaking the whole bed. Dean props himself up on an elbow and looks at Cas staring balefully at him. “I couldn’t get you out. Dean, I pulled you from hell, and I couldn’t get into that place. I could never even find it,” he says, tears slipping down his face. 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. Cas almost never cries, which makes Dean’s heart twist even more whenever he actually does. “It wasn’t your fault.” 

“I could hear you, you know. I could hear you losing it in there, and I couldn’t do a thing about it.”

Dean wants to lean forward, kiss the tears from Cas’s face and work his way to Cas’s mouth, but he doesn’t. He lays back on the bed, looking at the ceiling. 

_I love you_, he thinks. “That wasn’t on you, but I can’t do this anymore,” he says. 

He can feel Cas turning his head away from him. “Why, then?” he asks. 

“I can’t always be sleeping with one eye open because I’m worried you’re going to try to sacrifice yourself.” 

Cas laughs bitterly. “That’s rich, coming from you. Do you not remember why I had to kill Billie? Because you tried to do the same thing!” 

“I know.” Dean shakes his head. “But I can’t go through this every damn month.” 

Cas gets up without a word and leaves the room. He doesn’t even slam the door behind him or leave it open for Dean to get upset about. He just shuts it with a soft snick behind him. Dean turns over and buries his head in his pillow. His hand moves to feel the edges of the stupid fucking mixtape that’s migrated under his pillow, right next to his gun. Dean yanks it out and opens his nightstand drawer. He buries it at the bottom and slams the drawer shut. 

_And it’s whispered that soon_

_If we all call the tune_

_Then the piper will lead us to reason_

_And a new day will dawn_

_For those who stand long_

_And the forests will echo with laughter_

“You talk to Cas yet?” Sam asks him, three days later. 

“No.” 

“So, what, you’re just going to keep walking past each other in the kitchen, not saying a word?” 

“Maybe.” Dean shrugs. 

Sam shakes his head in exasperation. “Look, yes, Cas killed Billie, but he saved us. He saved Mom. How long are you going to stay pissed?” 

“I’m not pissed that he cares about us, you know. I’m grateful, but Billie said there would be cosmic consequences if that deal got broken. You have any idea what that means?” 

“No, but my point is, Cas thought he was doing the right thing.” 

Cas walks into the kitchen and glares at Dean. “I was doing the right thing.” 

“You sure about that?” Dean raises his eyebrows. 

“Yes,” Cas says unflinchingly. 

“Yeah? Well, I’m not so sure, and when the other shoe drops—” 

“I’ll deal with it,” Cas cuts him off. “I have to go.” 

“Got a lead on Kelly?” Sam asks, because oh, Dean almost forgot, Cas let her get away, spawn of Satan in tow. 

“No. This is personal.” 

“Meaning what?” Dean asks in disbelief. 

“Another angel, an old friend. He called out for help.” 

“Good old reliable angel radio,” Dean scoffs. 

“He was begging for help, and then he just stopped. I need to know if he’s still alive.” 

“Yeah, all right,” Sam relents, “We’ll come with you.” 

“Both of you?” Cas asks, staring straight at Dean. 

“Yeah, sure, we could help. Gotta make sure you don’t do anything else stupid.” 

_If looks could kill, _Dean thinks. 

After, when they’re back at the bunker after learning that angels have always been twisted douches, Dean turns to Cas. “I don’t like how the whole Billie thing went down, okay? I know you think you were doing the right thing. And I’m not mad, I’m worried, because things like ‘cosmic consequences’ have a habit of biting us in the ass.” 

“I know they do, but I don’t regret what I did, even if it costs me my life.” 

Cas comes to Dean’s room later that night. He has a hopeful look on his face. Dean would really like to give in and just go back to the way things were between them before, but if Cas has such little concern for himself, then Dean can’t let himself get too close just to be devastated because of all the risks he always takes. Angels are immortal, ageless, so why is it fair that Dean has to keep watching him die? 

“Cas, I meant what I said before. I’m not pissed anymore, but I still can’t do this. I can’t worry about you all the time. I mean, even today, you were ready to let that lady kill you if it would make her feel better for your unintentional part in her kid’s death!” Dean feels his voice start to get higher, and he cuts himself off. 

Cas frowns. “Okay. Fine. Whatever,” he says, and turns to walk away. Dean can hear him and Sam talking in the hallway. He tries his best to tune them out. 

On their next case, Dean goes and gets drunk. He vaguely remembers getting handsy with a bartender, trying to pretend her eyes were the right shade of blue, but not much else. Dean’s not aware of a whole lot that’s going on until he’s staring at Rowena, and she’s telling him some witch cast a curse on him that made him lose his memory. “Uh, thanks, I guess. For curing me,” he says. 

A hunter they’ve never ran into before calls them and asks for help on a case. He says it’s a demon, and their mom is helping him, but it’s the first demon he’s ever hunted, and he’d like the backup. It’s almost weird to think that demons aren’t a normal occurrence for other hunters like they are for Sam and Dean. Sam calls Cas and asks him to help, too. Dean rolls his eyes. He swears Sam is going to be watching _The Parent Trap _next for ideas to get him and Cas to talk again.

Dean is panting, in the middle of this demon’s house in Bumfuck, Nowhere, wondering where the hell the demon had disappeared to and what the fuck is going on, and how did it shrug off the demon blade like it was nothing, when Sam gets a call from their mom. Sam asks where she and Cas are, then, “Are you okay?” 

His mom’s voice carries out of Sam’s phone. “No.” 

_Yes, there are two paths you can go by_

_But in the long run_

_There’s still time to change the road you’re on_

_And it makes me wonder_

Dean floors it to the abandoned barn his mom had pointed them to. Sam’s staring at him, but Dean can’t help that he’s panicking. Cas is an angel, after all, and anything that could take him down must be nasty. They burst through the barn doors, and Dean’s eyes fly to Cas lying there on a ratty couch. “What the hell just happened?” Dean demands, but then Cas groans in pain, and Dean is by his side instantly. “You look like hammered crap,” he says, trying to lighten the mood, as much for Cas’s sake as his own. 

“That sounds about right,” Cas says through gritted teeth. 

“Let’s see.” Dean instantly regrets his request because it looks worse than Dean could have ever prepared for. Black webbing snakes up Cas’s torso. “I’ve had worse,” Dean comments with a dry mouth, tugging Cas’s shirt back down with gentle fingers. Dean doesn’t want to see it. 

“Oh, yeah? When?” Cas challenges him, but it comes out weakly. “Dean, something’s wrong. I can’t heal myself. I think the demon’s spear was poisoned. I don’t—I think I’m dying.” 

Dean swallows. _Deny, deny, deny. _“No. No, you just need some time, okay? You’ll heal up the old- fashioned way.” Cas has always been so untouchable, ever since Dean stabbed him and he didn’t even flinch. It’s a stark contrast to him lying there now, moaning in pain and saying he’s _dying_.

Crowley appears, and Dean hopes against all hope that he’ll be able to help. All he’s able to do is tell them that Cas got stabbed with the Lance of Michael, and that it kills everything it touches, angels extra slowly. He tells them that they’re dealing with Ramiel, a prince of Hell, and if Dean’s heart rate accelerates any more than it already has, he’s going to go into cardiac arrest right here. Dean squeezes his eyes closed. “Shut up,” he says, “We don’t have time, okay, for _you_, so either help us, or get the hell out of here!” 

Crowley vanishes in the blink of an eye, and Dean’s hopes plummet even lower. 

Cas gives a wet cough, and Dean goes back to him. “How bad is it?” 

Cas pulls aside the top of his shirt and tie to reveal the black making its way up his neck. “You should go.” 

“Cas, come on,” Dean says desperately. 

“No, you listen to me. You—look, thank you. Thank you. Knowing you, that’s been the best part of my life. The things that we’ve shared together, that’s changed me. You’re my family. I love you,” he grates out, and there it is, the first time Cas tells him he loves him, and Cas can’t even look him in the face.

Dean finds he can’t look at Cas, either. Is Cas really going to die without Dean saying he loves him back? _I can’t say ‘I love you’ for the first time in this terrible fucking barn, _Dean thinks. Cas isn’t done professing his love, though. “I love you all,” he continues, “Just please don’t make my last moments be spent watching you die. Just run. Save yourselves, and I will hold Ramiel off for as long as I can.” 

Dean wants to tell him to shut up, that he’s not going to die, that Dean will pull him through this because he fucking loves him too. “We don’t leave family behind,” he says instead.

They prepare to hit Ramiel with everything they’ve got. He comes back and tells them to give him back what they’ve stolen, or he’ll kill them. “We have no idea what you’re talking about,” Dean says, and truly, he doesn’t. 

He sure as hell didn’t steal anything from Ramiel’s frumpy house. Ramiel throws them all backwards, and the struggle begins. Dean is busy trying to keep one eye on Cas while not dying himself, and eventually, Sam stabs Ramiel with the lance. Sparks flicker beneath his skin, and he crumbles to black dust. They rush back to Cas’s side, and black sludge begins to pour out of his mouth. Dean feels like his heart is being carved out with a toothpick. He can’t believe he helped that waitress flirt with Cas or that he slept with some girl just to try to get over Cas. Dean wants to take the past three months back, so he and Sam would never have gotten captured, and they never would have had to make that deal with Billie. Dean still doesn’t know what cosmic consequences mean, but his angel dying in this moment right now sure seems pretty cosmic to Dean. 

Dean’s despairing one moment, and the next, Cas is glowing, crusty blood and black ichor disappearing. Dean doesn’t know what to think. He turns to see Crowley holding a broken lance. “Cas?” Dean asks brokenly. 

Cas sits there, chest heaving, as he looks back at Dean in wonder. 

“What did he mean about somebody stealing from him?” Cas asks after Dean and Sam have helped him stand up. 

“Who knows what that crazy man meant,” Dean dismisses. 

He can’t stop looking at Cas long enough to care. 

That night, when he leads Cas to his room, Cas doesn’t ask any questions and neither does he. They’re both done wasting time. They strip in record time, and Dean sees Cas’s fingers brushing his mixtape as he reaches into the nightstand for the lube. Dean grabs his hand, and Cas pauses. Dean takes the mixtape and holds it out to Cas with a shaky hand. “I made this for you. Hopefully it’ll help you learn what real music sounds like.” 

Cas takes it from him and gives Dean a gummy smile. 

“Maybe you always will be making me lose sleep, but you’re worth it,” Dean says, and Cas surges forward to give him a kiss. Dean accepts it hungrily. “God, how long has it been since we kissed?” Dean asks. 

“Nine weeks, one day, and two hours,” Cas answers without hesitation. 

Cas sets the mixtape carefully on the table on his side of the bed. 

“You’re such a dork,” Dean says fondly. He hesitates and takes a gulp, “I love you.” 

Cas stares at Dean with big eyes. “I know.” 

He lets Dean splutter for a couple of seconds before leaning down to meet Dean with a gentle kiss. He pulls back and smiles at Dean. “I love you, too.” 

Dean’s heart is doing acrobatics. He reaches across Cas into the drawer to retrieve the forgotten lube to press into Cas’s hand. “Get a move on,” Dean grunts, but Cas sees right through him. 

Cas lifts a hand that Dean has fisted in the sheets and kisses it. Dean melts. “I love you,” Dean says again. 

Now that he’s said it, he can’t believe he waited this long to say it. It slips out again and again throughout their night. 

Cas sticks a lubed finger in Dean’s ass and looks down at him, gauging Dean’s reaction. _I love you_. 

Cas mouths up Dean’s leg to kiss the ankle resting on his shoulder. _I love you._

Cas finally pushes into Dean, both of them moaning together. _I love you. _

After they’ve come and they’re lying side by side, “I love you,” he says, grinning as he settles his face into the crook of Cas’s shoulder. 

Cas hasn’t stopped smiling since the first time Dean said it, and Dean traces his fingers over Cas’s lips until he drifts off to sleep. 

When Cas leaves to resume his search for Kelly, Dean is reluctant to let him go, but Cas insists. “Dean, I was the one to lose her. I have to find her.” 

“Cas,” Dean hesitates, “You know that I want you around no matter what, right? You don’t have to keep proving you’re useful, or whatever. And all this sacrificing yourself stuff?” Dean shakes his head. “I can’t do this without you. I need you.” 

Cas looks back at him. “What makes you think I can keep on going without _you_?” 

Dean huffs out a half-hearted laugh. “Well, you better figure it out. I’m pretty sure you’ve got me beat on life expectancy.” 

The next time he hears Cas’s voice is after he finds out his mom is working with the British Men of Letters. “I’m doing this for you!” she had said, “I’m playing three decades of catch up, here.” 

“And we’re not? How do you think this has been for us? We’re your sons, and you’ve been gone. Our whole lives, you’ve been gone. You said that you needed time. No, you said you need space. So, we gave you your space, but I guess you just needed space from us.” 

“That’s not true,” she denied, “Dean, I’m trying—” 

“How about for once, you just try to be a mom?” Dean spat. 

“I am your mother, but I am not just a mom, and you are not a child.” 

“I never was.” 

After she left, he had told Sam he was going out to get a drink, but really, he had just wanted some privacy to talk to Cas without Sam’s prying ears. 

“I just don’t understand how she could do this! They tortured Sam!” he rants. 

“I think she was looking for a sense of community, and she found it with them.” 

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. She could have had it with them, if she would have let them in. “I just need you on my side right now, Cas.” 

“You know I’m here for whatever you need, but you should consider your mother’s point of view, too.” 

Dean wants to tell him to stop looking for Kelly and come home, but he’s not quite selfish enough for that. 

When Dean gets back to the bunker, Sam’s left him a note that he went out and he’ll be back later. Dean scoffs, but he guesses Sam is entitled to his space, too. There’s a pounding on the bunker door. He opens it, expecting Sam, but he’s met with Ketch. “How’d you find us?” Dean demands. 

“Well, this is a Men of Letters bunker. The location’s no secret to us.” 

“Okay. Cool. Well, good talk,” Dean says, ready to slam the door shut. 

“And whilst I understand that you’re not feeling warmly disposed to me, I wonder, what’s your disposition to this incredibly rare, unspeakably expensive, bottle of barrel proof scotch?” 

Dean gestures for the bottle and begrudgingly lets him in. 

Somehow, Ketch talks him into wiping out a vampire nest with him, but the place is suspiciously empty. They stumble across one vamp, who tells them the others are out hunting—hunters. Dean and Ketch exchange a look. Even if Dean doesn’t like the slimy bastards, he’s not going to let vamps take the whole of the British Men of Letters out. Especially not if his mom’s there. They race to the British’s compound. By the time they get there, though, the vamps are dead. Dean’s surprised. He thought they had all seemed like mainly pencil pushers, excepting Ketch, but he was with Dean. Dean’s surprised for a different reason when he sees Sam there with his mom. “Went out, back later, huh?” he asks Sam. 

“Just getting a drink, huh?” Sam shoots back. 

Dean looks at his mom. “When I thought something might have happened to you, nothing else mattered.” 

“Dean, the things I said—” 

“No, Mom, you were… It’s not your job to make my lunch and kiss me good night. We’re adults. You’re going to make your own choices, even if I don’t like them. Even if I really, really don’t like them. That’s just something I’m going to have to get used to, okay, Mom?” 

Dean’s already done the whole almost dying while they were still made at each other with Cas, and he doesn’t need a repeat of that. It’s better to make up now. 

Sam sets up a computer algorithm to find them hunts, and it socks case after case their way. Dean might be a little in love with the thing. With Cas being gone, Dean has nothing to do besides hunt, and the algorithm keeps the hunts coming. Speaking of distractions, Sam drops the fact that the British Men of Letters have the Colt on him. “They what?” 

“They have the Colt,” Sam repeats. 

“They have the gun that can kill anything, and you didn’t nick it off of them?” Dean asks in outrage. “Jeez, what kind of good influence have I been?” 

They’re on another case when Cas calls him to say angels are dying. Dean expresses his concern, says they’re there, but Cas says he has it handled, that he’s not even sure what it is that’s doing the killing. Dean’s eyebrows are up to his hairline, but he knows there’s some things that Cas has to do for himself. 

They’re returning to the bunker when Cas calls again. “What’s up?” Dean asks. 

“I think I have a lead on Kelly Kline,” he answers, “She’s with Dagon, prince of Hell.” 

“All right, how much do we know about him?” Sam asks over the speaker phone. 

“Actually, it’s a her. And not much. It’s just rumors and stores; Dagon is mostly known for her psychotic savagery.” 

Cas explains that Dagon was the source of the angel killings, but she and Kelly are gone from the city where it happened. 

“All right, well, we’ll spread the word. Let us know if you find anything,” Dean says. 

“Of course,” Cas says, and the phone beeps, signaling the end of the call. 

Dean looks over at Sam. “He sound weird to you?” 

Sam is too preoccupied by his phone buzzing to answer Dean’s question. “Is that your computer talking to you again?” Dean asks. 

“No, it’s, uh, Mick Davies,” Sam says distractedly, “Dean, I don’t have a computer program feeding me cases. Every job we’ve worked in the past two weeks? They’ve come from the British Men of Letters.” 

Dean thought he was almost okay with his mom working with them, but Sam? The betrayal stings under his skin. 

“I didn’t tell you because I know how much you hate them,” Sam says. 

“No, we hate them. Us. Together.” 

“They get results. I don’t like them, either, but if we can save people…” Sam trails off. 

Dean takes a deep breath. “Okay.” 

Sam looks up in shock. “Okay?” 

“What do you want me to say? Do I like it? No. Do I trust them? Hell, no. But you’re right. We work with people we don’t trust all the time, so if you want to give this a shot, then, fine. But the minute something feels off, we bail.” 

Sam is staring at him with surprise, and Dean knows it’s well earned. He’s not exactly sure where this calm is coming from, either, because this is definitely something that would normally make him flip his lid. Maybe making up with Cas has been good for his temperament. 

Dean’s calm is threatened to be shattered when Cas suddenly drops off grid. He stops replying to Dean’s texts and won’t answer his phone. Dean brings it up to Sam, but he dismisses it. “You’re overreacting, Dean. I’m sure he’s just busy with trying to find Kelly.” 

Dean scrubs a hand down his face. “Even if he’s busy, he could just send _one _text to say that. This isn’t like him.” 

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?” 

Dean wants to scream, because Sam is right, but damn it, they said they loved each other. Shouldn’t things be different now? 

Dean keeps sending Cas texts, but he doesn’t respond. They keep going on cases from the British Men of Letters, so at least that somewhat distracts him. When Mick wants to go on a werewolf case with them, Dean figures keeping him alive will be a good challenge to keep his mind off things, so he relents. Dean’s hackles rise when they’re driving, and Mick tells him they’ve made werewolves in London extinct. “Wait a second,” Sam says, “You killed them all? Even the ones who weren’t hurting anyone? I mean, werewolves aren’t like most monsters. Some can control it. We have a buddy who got bit. Nothing but beef hearts ever since.” 

“And you trust him?” Mick asks incredulously with that stupid fucking accent. “Killing is a fundamental need for werewolves, and monsters don’t just stop being monsters.” 

“Well, Garth did.” Dean crosses his arms. Maybe he won’t have to try so hard to keep Mick alive, after all. 

They run into Claire, who’s working the case, too. Dean is glad to see her. When she crosses his mind, it always refreshes his worry about her. She’s a little bit too much like him for Dean to convince himself that she’ll ever get a happy ending, but he knows Jody is doing her best to look out for her. Dean wishes Cas would answer his damn phone, so he could let him know Claire’s still kicking and just as feisty as ever. 

Dean’s not as shitty mood because of Claire is dampened when he discovers that Mick snuck away and killed their newly minted werewolf girl, Hayden, for no reason at all. When Dean confronts him about it, Mick pushes back. “Killing monsters is what we do! Or maybe palling around with demons and witches, you’ve forgotten.” 

Dean shoves him against a railing. “Don’t tell me how to do my job.” 

“Well, then do it,” Mick replies. 

“You think it’s that simple, huh?” 

“I really do.” 

“Yeah? I used to think the same thing. Well, here’s a little tip. Things aren’t just black and white out here. All you have is a case in front of you. You can give second chances because it’s the right thing to do.” 

“Well, that’s your luxury. We have a code.” 

“Now Hayden’s mom gets to bury her kid, thanks to you and your code. Nice work.” 

Dean walks away before he really loses his head. He wonders if that’s how he used to sound to Sam. Dean spares a moment to think of the monsters he’s killed that really probably didn’t deserve it. He shakes his head and is glad he knows better now, even though that won’t bring them back. 

Sam calls him in a panic. 

“Dude, slow down. What?” 

“Claire got bit,” Sam says in a rush. 

Dean rushes to the hotel where Sam has her holed up, and his heart breaks for her. He kneels down in front of her. “Nobody said this was going to be easy, okay, but you can live with this.” 

“No way.” Claire shakes her head. 

“Hey. Look, so you have to stay locked up a few nights out of the month. The rest of the time, you’re you.” 

“Unless I break out,” she argues, “Maybe some people can control this, but I can barely keep it together it on a good day. So, if there’s any chance I could hurt Jody or Alex, or anyone… I’d rather die.” 

Dean squeezes his eyes shut. 

“Claire, there may be another way,” Sam says. “There’s the blood therapy you talk about.” He points at Mick. 

“I told you, it doesn’t work.” 

“It says right here one out of nine test subjects were cured.” Sam jabs a finger at the book he’s holding. 

“That was on mice! We tested on a human once, and the subject died in agony.” 

“Maybe second’s time the charm.” Claire’s shaky voice breaks through theirs. 

Dean turns around. “Hey, no. You don’t get a vote in this.” 

She looks at him in disbelief. “It’s my life. I get all the votes.” 

He continues arguing with her until she breaks down in tears. “Dean, please? I can’t…” she trails off, but they all know what she’s talking about. 

Dean clears his throat. “All right.” 

He turns to Mick. “What do we need to do?” 

When Dean looks at her eyes turned back to blue and the wolf nails receded, he heaves a sigh of relief. “Holy shit, Claire.” 

Sam looks like he agrees with the sentiment. 

“Listen, thanks for the win back there,” Dean says later, begrudgingly to Mick. 

“So, we’re good?” he asks, looking pleased. 

“Not quite, but we’ll give you a second chance.” Sam says. 

“Just don’t mess it up. There won’t be a third.” 

Dean doesn’t know what the fuck is going on with Cas, and he’s starting to wonder if Cas didn’t freak after Dean told him he loved him. What if it was too soon? In hindsight, Cas’s confession seems a little coerced; he was dying, after all. Fuck, this is why Dean put it off for so long. 

Dean turns to obsessively cleaning his weapons in lieu of talking to Cas on the phone. “I think they’re clean,” Sam says after Dean’s fourth day sitting at the war room table with his bottle of Rem oil. 

Dean scowls at him. “Have you heard anything from Cas?” he asks desperately, even though he knows Cas wouldn’t have called Sam and not him when Dean’s left him probably a hundred messages. 

Sam softens a bit. “Sorry. He hasn’t got a hold of me, either. Maybe we should start looking for Kelly, too, see if we can find out where he is.” 

Eileen video calls them and tells them she’s got a lead on Kelly. Dean assumes Sam asked her to look. When Sam hangs up, Dean looks over at him and smirks. “That’s cute.” 

“Come on,” Sam groans. 

“No, it’s sweet! I see you in your room practicing signs. It’s nice. I like her.” 

Sam buries his face in his hands. 

Dean’s happy for Sam’s budding romance, really, he is, but he’d be a lot more supportive if Cas would just call him back. He swears, if he has to listen to Cas’s voicemail one more time… 

Eileen comes by the bunker with information about Dagon and Kelly. She tells them Kelly went to a doctor’s appointment for her baby, and Sam sees a way in when Eileen proudly hands him Kelly’s phone number. 

Dean tells Sam to call Mick and get the Colt, and they arrange for Sam to call Kelly, saying he’s from the doctor’s office to convince her to go to an “appointment” at five. Dean hightails it the office and sees her walking along the street. He parks Baby and walks next to her and grabs her arm. “Stay cool. Walk with me.” 

She startles but relaxes minutely when she realizes it’s Dean. Dean settles her into the backseat, and they take off to an abandoned junk yard Sam had scouted out. They figured Dagon would come for Kelly, so they had found a place where any civilians would be out of the line of fire. Kelly sits in stony silence, ignoring Dean’s attempts at small talk. Eventually Dean pops in a cassette and turns up the radio. 

When they arrive, Dean gets out of Baby and looks at the crowd assembled. “This everyone?” he asks gruffly, his eyes not catching on any flashes of tan or blue. 

“Yeah. Still no word from Cas,” Sam says. 

Mick is a poor substitute for Cas, but there he stands, and at least he can be bothered to pick up his damn phone. “Who’s this?” Dean asks, pointing at a scrawny blond kid. 

“Renny. He’s with Mick,” Sam answers. 

Dean raises his eyebrows. He didn’t realize they had turned into a daycare for library bound Men of Letters to get their training wheels in a hunt. Not that hunting Dagon had training wheels in any way, though. Whatever, Dean shrugs, it’s not like he’s particularly invested in what happens to the guy. Dean already can’t remember his name. 

Dean opens the back door for Kelly to climb out, and she shrugs off any of his attempts to help. Dean raises his hands in surrender. 

Sam starts toward her. “Kelly, listen. We know you’re in a really difficult situation, and we just want to help.” 

“You call this helping?” she asks in disbelief. 

“Look, Kelly, that kid, I mean, it’s Lucifer’s,” Dean says, fumbling for words. How do you tell someone their kid is evil? 

“You think I wanted this to happen? Lucifer used me, but I love this child.” 

“You will mean absolutely nothing to this child. That child will kill us all,” Mick protests. 

“That’s not happening, okay? We’re going to figure something out. We will,” Sam says. 

Dean’s not sure if he’s saying it for their benefit or his own. 

“This is absurd,” the kid Mick brought along says as he pulls out a gun. 

“Don’t,” Dean starts to say, but the wind begins to whip around him, and Dagon appears. 

Things happen in a blur until the moment slows painfully as Eileen takes a shot at Dagon. Dagon disappears from the path of the bullet, and Mick’s kid collapses. 

Mick whirls around to face Eileen. “She killed a Man of Letters. She has to die!” he shouts unsteadily. 

Sam protests, but Mick cuts him off. “It doesn’t matter. The code!” 

Dean jabs a finger at him. “No, hey, screw the code.” 

“Mick, you’re better than that. You only have to answer to yourself, your own code,” Sam says in that earnest way of his. 

Mick squeezes his eyes shut. “Just go.” 

Back at the bunker, Dean asks Eileen if she’s okay. Tears well up in her eyes, and Sam pulls her into a hug. Dean leaves them in peace. As he walks away, he pulls out his phone to try Cas one more time. He wasn’t expecting an answer, and Cas proves him right. 

The next morning, Sam asks him if he’s heard anything from Cas. Dean shakes his head, trying to hide how much that particular question stings. 

“You think he’s alright?” Sam asks, finally taking Cas’s unresponsiveness as seriously as Dean did on day two. 

“I don’t know.” Dean changes the subject, “Where’s Eileen?” 

“She took off again. Just needs some time, I guess.” 

Dean swallows painfully. That hits a little closer to home than he’s sure Sam intended. He hopes Cas just needs some time, that he’s not lying somewhere with his wings burned into the ground. The lump in his throat lessens when Sam picks up a cloth wrapped item and hands it to Dean. Dean unwraps it and breaks out into a smile when he sees the Colt. “Welcome back, sweetheart.” 

Dean leaves Cas another message on his phone. “Come on, Cas, it’s me. I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for days. I don’t know what’s going on, but we got a line on Dagon, and we got our asses handed to us, even with the Colt. So, we could really use the backup. Call me back.” Words about promises and hurt lay unspoken on Dean’s tongue. 

Dean hangs up and tugs at his hair in frustration. 

“No luck with Cas, huh?” Sam asks as Dean walks into the war room. 

“Still AWOL,” Dean shakes his head. 

“All right, so let’s find him,” Sam says, like it’s that easy. 

“I’ve been trying. The GPS on his phone is turned off, there’s nothing in the system about some weird guy in a trench coat getting arrested or turning up dead.” 

Sam huffs. “Well, it’s Cas. This isn’t the first time he’s dropped off the map, you know? Whatever’s happening, he’ll be fine. He always is.” 

Dean’s unconvinced, but Sam goes on to tell Dean about a case Mick emailed him about. Dagon hasn’t pinged on any of their radars, so Dean seizes on the distraction. 

They’re in a diner, with Sam telling him what else he’s managed to dig up about the case. Dean’s eyes catch on their waitress. They flit away at first, but then, he thinks, what the hell, he came on this case for a distraction. Apparently, he and Cas don’t even have an actual relationship, since Cas hasn’t deemed it necessary to talk to him, anyway. He walks over to the bar with his coffee mug in hand. “Boy, this coffee is hot. Kind of like…” he points at her with a wide smile, “Hi. What’s your name?” 

“Carmen,” she giggles. 

“My little brother always used to love that show. _Where in the World is Carmen San Diego_? He ate that stuff up.” 

She lights up. “I used to watch that, too! It was one of my favorite shows after school.” 

Dean finds himself in an easy conversation with Carmen until he works up to asking her when she gets off. She answers, and he gives her a lascivious grin. “Am I invited?” 

She rolls her eyes at him and slaps at his hand resting on the bar top, but she gives him a wink. 

They clamber into Baby, and she gives him directions to her apartment. They walk through the door and Dean lets her give him the nickel tour before stepping into her space. She smiles and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him down a bit to her level. Dean kisses her soundly and reaches up to take off her jacket. Her fingers are on his zipper when she pauses. She pulls back. “What’s wrong?” she asks. 

“Nothing. Why?” 

“You seem, I don’t know, really tense.” 

Dean doesn’t know what to say that. He leans back in for another kiss, but she holds him at arm’s length. 

“Do you even want to have sex with me?” 

“Of course I do!” Dean tries to laugh, but his laughs are sounding more like gasping breaths. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Her voice rises in concern. 

She leads him to her couch and tells him to sit. She leaves to get him a glass of water. By the time she comes back, Dean’s shoulders are shaking. She sits down next to him and presses the glass into his hand. She slings an arm over his shoulders, and Dean relaxes into the touch. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, unintentionally parroting Sam. 

Dean starts to shake his head, but when tears start to slide down his face, he rethinks his answer. Maybe it’d be easier to explain all this to a stranger. If she judges him badly, who cares? 

“My boyfriend is a soldier,” he starts, after a pause to gather his thoughts. He sees her look of surprise, and he hastens to explain, “Well, he’s not really my boyfriend. And I’m bi.” 

She nods her understanding, and Dean almost misses the fact that this is the second person he’s ever explicitly told his sexuality to. He swallows past the lump in his throat. 

Dean continues, “Before he left, he told me he loved me, and I said it back, but I guess we never really said we were in a relationship or anything, and now it’s been almost a month since I heard from him, and I’m worried that he’s dead somewhere, or that he just felt like he had to say it and didn’t actually mean it, or that—” 

Carmen cuts him off. “Take a breath, hon.” 

Dean takes a deliberate gulp of air. 

“You seem pretty good at that whole catastrophizing thing,” she says wryly. 

Dean gives a weak smile. “That’s an understatement,” he mumbles. 

“How about you try not to assume the worst? You said he’s a soldier? They might be in a combat zone and can’t get any communication out.” 

Dean buries his face in the couch. “Do you think that makes me feel any better?” 

She lays a hand between his shoulder blades and applies gentle pressure. 

“My brother is deployed. It’s hard, I know. We just have to be here for them, but we don’t get to ask anything in return. Obviously, it’s hard for them to be away, but they’re not the ones waiting by their phones all day just so they don’t miss a call.” 

Dean turns his head to really look at her. “I’m sorry. How do you deal with that?” 

She shrugs. “I have hobbies. I like to read. I bake things he likes, so I can imagine he’ll be eating them later, but that one backfires on me sometimes when it’s still sitting on my counter a week later. My cookies could never make it more than two days when he was around,” she laughs, “I swear he could smell them from across town or something, because he always seemed to come visit right after I made them. Mostly, it helps to talk to people about it,” she says with a poke at Dean’s ribs. 

“I suppose I could work on that one,” he admits, and he hunkers down on the couch for the night. Carmen comes back with a blanket for him. 

The next morning, she climbs into Baby and slides next to Dean. She wiggles his tie around until it’s hanging limply around his neck. “You need to loosen up,” she declares. 

She sticks a hand in his pocket, and he startles, but she’s pulling out his phone. “Give a guy a warning before you grope him, would you?” he grumbles. 

She types something into his phone and drops it in his lap. “You ever want to chat, just give me a text. I could even hook you up with the deployed spouse club around here. I hear they get together every week for a crafting circle,” she grins. 

Dean laughs, a full bellied one. “I’ll keep it in mind.” 

When they arrive at the diner, and they’re standing outside the door, she whispers to him, “You’re going to be okay.” 

Dean nods his head and gives a weak smile. “Thanks, Carmen,” he says and follows her inside. 

He sees Sam in a booth, already there. 

He pulls Carmen closer to him, and no, it’s definitely not for Sam’s benefit. “I’ll see you later,” he says into her hair. 

Dean smiles at her gratefully, and she returns it as she gets to work. 

Dean claps his hands and walks over to Sam, who’s smiling like the Cheshire cat at him. “Good night?” Sam asks. 

“Awesome,” Dean answers, because what is he going to say? Carmen gave him an understanding ear for his worries about Cas? She helped him realize that even if Cas doesn’t feel like they’re in a relationship, Dean does, and doing something with anyone else would feel like cheating? He doesn’t think so. 

“You gonna eat that?” he asks, looking at Sam’s breakfast. 

Sam’s reply is too slow, so Dean pulls the plate towards him. He makes a face as he starts shoveling in the egg white omelet. 

Dean might almost get sacrificed to a god, but they make it back to the bunker in one piece. Sam calls Mick to tell him about the case, but Ketch answers instead. “Mick flew back to London last night. After all the… unpleasantness with Dagon, Mick has a lot to answer for, so for the time being, you’ll report to me.” 

After they hang up with Ketch, Dean turns to Sam to complain. “So now we’re reporting to low grade Christian Bale? Seriously? I don’t like that. He creeps me out.” 

Sam nods in agreement. 

Days later, Dean looks at the array Sam has spread out on the war room table. “I think she’ll be giving birth around May 18th,” Sam says about Kelly. 

“Which means we have less than a month to find her.” Dean shakes his head. 

“Yeah, and exactly no idea where to start.” 

“Even if we do find her, what then?” Dean’s asking when the bunker door creaks open. 

Dean looks up and sees—“Cas?” Sam asks. 

“Hello,” Cas replies, as unruffled as ever. 

“Hey. You’re alright. Um, where have you been?” Sam asks. 

Dean looks up at Cas in wonder, but then he hardens his face and butts in, “Let me rephrase that for Sam. Where the hell have you been? And why have you ignored our phone calls?” Dean demands. 

“Where I was, the reception was, uh, poor.” 

“No bars?” Dean asks incredulously. He turns to look at Sam. “No bars. That was his excuse. Wow.” 

Cas fumbles to explain himself. “I was in heaven. I was working with the angels. When I saw Dagon had captured Kelly, I thought they could help.” 

“And?” Sam asks. 

“Nothing.” 

“Well, at least you’re back. We’re glad you’re back,” Sam says. 

Dean turns to glare at Sam. “Really? No, I’m sorry. Okay, because while you were striking out in heaven, we had a shot at Dagon, and we lost.” 

“I know. I received your messages.” 

Dean raises his eyebrows at the absurdity. 

“Oh, so you did receive the messages? Okay. That’s good.” 

“Dean,” he hears Sam say, but he’s on a roll. “So not only were you ditching us, but you were also ignoring us? That’s great. We really could have used the backup. But you were too busy with, uh, what was it? Nothing?” 

“Dean, I—” Cas tries to defend. 

“What the hell is wrong with you, man? You know, whatever. That’s—” Dean shakes his head. It’s pretty par for the course, actually, but he thought he could count on Cas. He laughs mirthlessly. “Welcome back.” 

Dean storms off to his room and pulls out his laptop. He needs to be working, anything to stop him from thinking about this shitshow. 

He pounds at the keys of his computer until he’s interrupted by a knock on the door. Dean looks up. It’s either Sam or Cas, and he doesn’t want to talk to either of them right now. He doesn’t say anything, but the door opens regardless. 

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says, “I just wanted to return this.” 

Cas takes the mixtape Dean spent hours making him and puts it on the desk beside Dean with a tap of his finger on the plastic casing. 

Dean doesn’t take his eyes away from his screen as he holds it back out to Cas. “It’s a gift. You keep those,” he says gruffly. 

“Oh.” Cas takes it. 

Cas turns to leave, but Dean stops him. “You can’t—with everything that’s going on, you can’t just go dark like that. We didn’t know what happened to you, and that’s not okay.” 

Cas looks at him. “Well, I didn’t mean to add to your distress. Dean, I just keep failing again and again. When you were taken, I couldn’t find you, and then Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn’t find her. I just wanted—I needed to come back here with a win for you, for myself.” 

Dean finally turns to take Cas in. “You think you’re the only one rolling snake eyes here? Me and Sam, we had her. We had Kelly, and we lost her.” 

“And if you find her again?” Cas asks. 

“Sam’s working on it. Of course, Sam’s hell bent on finding something that doesn’t kill her or her kid.” 

“And if he doesn’t find something? If you run out of time, could either of you kill an innocent?” 

Dean stares at him. Dean’s mind flashes back to when he had the mark of Cain. He never wants to be that guy again. “We’ll find a better way.” 

Cas raises his eyebrows. “We?” 

“Yes, dumbass, we,” Dean says in exasperation. “You, me, and Sam. We’re just better together. So, now that you’re back, it’s go team free will. Let’s get it done.” 

“I’d like that.” Cas looks down at the floor. 

“Right. And I’d like a beer,” Dean says, brushing past Cas. 

It’d be easy to fall right back into Cas, but it wasn’t okay for him to just cut Sam and Dean out like that, damn it. Dean does pause in the hallway to pull out his phone and look up Carmen’s number. 

Dean: _My idiot is still alive_

Later, when Dean walks by the library, after taking some time to decompress with his beer, he notices Sam still sitting there. “Hey, come on, man, get some sleep, all right? You’re not going to find Dagon tonight.” 

Sam looks up from his strewn books to Dean. “What if we’ve been going about this whole thing the wrong way, you know? I mean, we can’t track Dagon, right? We know that. We’ve tried. But what if we can track the nephilim?” 

“How?” Dean asks doubtfully. 

“The baby’s half angel, right? There was this spell Cas and I were working on to track Gadreel with the grace he left in me.” 

“Well, it didn’t work because Cas couldn’t yank enough out of you.” 

“Wait. The grace extraction worked. What if Cas used it on Kelly’s kid? I mean, a nephilim’s just a human soul with angelic grace, right? So you remove the grace, and Kelly or her baby wouldn’t have to die and—” 

“Kid’s just a kid,” Dean finishes excitedly. “Hot damn. This is it. I’ll go get Cas.” 

Dean dashes off to Cas’s room to tell him the news, but his heart sinks when Cas isn’t there. He checks his room, just to be sure, but Cas isn’t there either. Dean notices his pillow looks more rumpled than usual. He grabs it and flips it over. The Colt was under there when he woke up this morning, and now it’s missing. Dean whips out his phone to call Cas. “Come on, come on, pick up,” Dean mutters. 

“Make your voice… a mail,” Cas’s voice says. 

“Fuck!” Dean curses vehemently, banging a fist on his desk. God, he thought it was fucking weird that Cas didn’t come to see him again after Dean left him in his room, but Dean had just thought he had got the message that Dean was mad. 

He goes to tell Sam. Sam tries to call Cas, too, but there’s still no answer. 

“I’m going to kick his feathered ass,” Dean says. 

“Dean, Cas wouldn’t have taken the Colt if he wasn’t going up against something big.” 

“Okay. I say we find him, figure out what’s going on, and then we kick his feathered ass.” 

Sam gives him a bashful smile. “I may have put a tracking app on his phone,” he admits. 

Dean feels a rush of relief. “What are we waiting for, then?” 

Dean sees Sam looking worriedly at the speedometer, but Dean can’t be bothered about that right now. If Cas took the Colt and didn’t tell them what he was doing, Dean knows that almost certainly spells disaster. Sam keeps giving him directions until they’re pulling into a hotel and Dean can see Cas’s butt ugly truck in the parking lot. Sam directs him to a room. Dean pounds on the door. Cas has the audacity to open it up with the Colt in front of him for protection. Dean snatches the gun away. “Yeah, that’s mine,” he says, and then he’s slamming Cas into the wall. “What the hell are you thinking, huh?” Dean demands, his forearm pushing Cas back. 

Cas stares back at him with widened eyes, and, yeah, okay, maybe Dean’s getting mixed signals from this whole little encounter, too, but he’s still pissed, damn it. 

Sam interrupts their staring contest, calling Dean over to him. Dean turns and sees Kelly in the bathroom. 

Cas tells them they’re at this motel because his truck broke down, and then he’s taking Kelly to heaven. “Listen, we found another way,” Sam says. 

“And you’d know that if you would answer your phone,” Dean can’t stop himself from adding. 

Surprisingly, Kelly is the one with a problem with the plan. “If I go with you, you take away the thing that makes him special,” she protests. 

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Can we take this conversation somewhere else? We’re kind of sitting ducks out here,” Sam says. 

“Sam’s right. Dagon is after Kelly. Your truck is broke down. Why don’t we get in the Impala, we’ll head back to the bunker, and we’ll talk. We’ll figure it out,” he says, looking right at Cas. 

Cas and Kelly reluctantly agree, and Dean rolls his eyes. “It’s like herding cats,” he mutters. 

Dean’s standing a little bit away to talk to Sam when Cas yanks on the Impala’s door. “Dean!” he calls, “It’s locked!” 

Dean tosses his car keys to Cas, the ultimate display of trust, even after the past weeks, but he guesses it was misplaced because two minutes later Baby is peeling out of the parking lot with him and Sam standing in the dust. 

Dean finally gets Cas’s truck working, and they take off to where they figure Kelly is heading to: heaven. 

They get there in time to see Dagon holding Cas by the throat. Sam distracts her with shots from his gun while Dean pulls out the Colt to aim. He cocks the gun, but then Dagon disappears. He whirls around, trying to find her, but she’s nowhere to be seen until she’s right behind him. She grabs Dean’s right arm and snaps the bone, taking the Colt. “Time to take this off to the board,” she says as the gun turns into a molten lump right in front of Dean’s eyes. 

“No!” 

Cas drags himself to his feet and stumbles towards Dagon. “Run,” he tells them. 

Dean meets his eyes defiantly. He didn’t leave Cas to Ramiel, and he’s not leaving him now, either. His arm throbs as he watches Kelly takes Cas’s hand in hers, and then there’s yellow light spreading up Cas’s arm until his eyes start to glow. Dagon moves toward him, looking to kill him, and Dean shouts out again, but Cas reaches up and grips Dagon’s hand. She starts smoking and flames ignite, taking her with them. Dean and Sam start toward Cas. “Cas? What was that?” Sam asks. 

“It was, um, me. But it was also…” he trails off, looking at Kelly. 

He looks at Dean, then. “You’re hurt,” he says, looking at the way Dean is cradling his broken arm. 

Cas heals him with a press of his fingers. “Thank you for coming to fight for us,” he says in a tone that has warning bells screaming in Dean’s head. 

“Are you okay?” 

“I am. I’ve been so lost. I’m not lost anymore, and I know now that this child must be born with all of his power.” 

“You can’t actually mean that.” Sam frowns. 

“Yes, I do. I have faith. We have to go,” he says, turning away. 

“No, no. Wait. Okay, whatever that thing did to you, we’re not just going to let you walk away,” Dean protests. 

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen,” Sam says, crossing his arms. 

“Yes, it is.” Cas reaches out to Sam, and he drops to the ground, unconscious. 

Cas reaches toward Dean. “Don’t,” Dean says, backing away, but then his vision is fuzzing out at the edges, and he’s crumpling in on himself. 

When Dean wakes up, concern is quickly taking the place of pissed for the primary emotion he’s feeling for Cas right now. What the hell has that baby done to him? 

_Your head is humming_

_And it won’t go_

_In case you don’t know_

_The piper’s calling you to join him_

The next morning, back in the bunker, their mom’s phone buzzes. Sam answers it, and it’s other hunters, the Banes, asking for backup on a case. Alicia thinks their mom is missing, and Sam volunteers to meet them. Dean is less than pleased. “What the hell, man? What about Cas?” 

“Dude, Cas ditched his cell phone. Look, Jody put an APB out for Cas and Kelly across three states. Until that shakes something loose or we get some other break, all we’re doing is sitting here, banging our heads against a brick wall. Let’s get out there.” 

Dean won’t admit it, but the case actually does help him get his mind off things. He gets back in the groove of what he actually wants to be doing. He’d sure as hell rather being doing cases like this every week instead of having to worry about the freaking spawn of Satan and where Cas has disappeared to this time. Dean calls his mom but has to leave her a voice mail. He wishes she would pick up, but they had a talk about the whole needing space thing, and Dean gets it. He tells her about the case and adds, “Even if you can’t swing by, can you call me back? Just some stuff going down that’s kind of got me— spun out. It’d be good to talk to you.” 

After the case, Dean checks his phone. He’d missed his mom’s last call, and all she had left in her voicemail was that something was wrong. They go to the last motel they knew she was in after she doesn’t answer any of their repeated phone calls. As they’re standing there, Sam gets a phone call, and he looks shaken. Dean fights to keep the panic down. “Mom?” he mouths to Sam. 

Sam shakes his head, still acting stricken. Dean’s heart clenches painfully. It can’t be Cas. Who would be calling them about him, anyway? 

“It’s Eileen,” Sam says when he finally gets off the phone. 

Dean has one short moment of relief, and then he feels terrible about it. “How?” he asks. 

“She was, uh, mauled by a wild animal in a wooded area that doesn’t have animals that do that, in South Carolina. Dean, that’s the second hunter death we’ve heard about in two weeks,” Sam says, talking about the news of some other hunter they had gotten earlier that day. 

“Two doesn’t mean a pattern,” Dean argues. 

“Three would. Mom’s a hunter, and no one knows where she is,” Sam says meaningfully. 

Dean shakes his head in denial. 

They give the coroner a visit to see Eileen’s body. They determine someone sicced a hellhound on her, but Crowley says it wasn’t him, and who the hell else would want to mess around with those fuckers? They find out a disturbing number of other hunters are dead. The count’s up to seven in three weeks. 

They concede defeat in figuring out who did this for now and slink back to the bunker. On the way back, though, Dean stops at the post office to check their box. “We got a letter from Eileen,” he tells Sam in disbelief. 

Eileen tells them she thought the British Men of Letters were trying to track her down after she killed their smarmy agent and that her phone was tapped. Dean raises his eyebrows. This is so not the news he wanted today. 

They head back to the bunker, and Dean finds a bug under the war room table. Dean waves to get Sam’s attention and points at the recorder. Sam nods his understanding as he motions for Sam to play along. 

“Those hunters you were talking to, is one of them Terry Marsh?” Dean asks. 

“Uh, yeah, Terry Marsh in Missouri. I talked to him. He’s also thinking it’s not monsters doing the real killing.” 

“Okay, well I got a text from him. Says he doesn’t want to talk over the phone. He wants to meet at the old iron works off the interstate tomorrow night at nine.” 

“All right,” Sam says, and then they move away from the microphone to let out a breath. 

They set up an ambush for the Men of Letters and manage to catch Toni, the woman who tortured Sam. They force her into Baby and head back to the bunker. Dean’s blood pressure skyrockets when Toni asks him, “Did you really think your mother was just working with Ketch? All of those days and nights?” 

Sam cuts in sharply, “That’s enough.” 

“He said it was some of the best sex he’d ever had,” she says with a smirk. 

Dean slams on the brakes. “You want to rethink that?” he asks. 

“Fine. It was _the _best sex he’d ever had.” 

Dean reaches for her, to do what, he’s not sure. 

“Dean!” Sam stops him. “What about Mick? Where is he in all this?” Sam asks Toni. 

“Oh, Mick’s dead. It was determined he was too sentimental for the job. Turns out, he was too much like you two and all the other US hunters. Ergo, soon each and every hunter in this country will join him. Jody Mills, Claire Novak, all of your other flannel wearing, whiskey swilling friends. They’re dead.” 

Dean exchanges a look with Sam as he shifts Baby back into drive. 

Back at the bunker, Dean’s telling Toni to call Ketch and tell him to get here if he ever wants to see her alive again when Ketch’s voice floats to them from the war room. “Interestingly, his prissy ass is already here,” he says, surrounded by Men of Letter operatives pointing guns at them. “Lady Bevell, would you mind disarming them?” he asks. 

Toni reaches for Sam’s gun, and Sam wraps a hand around her neck instead and starts firing. Dean pulls out his gun and joins in, diving for cover. They use their knowledge of the bunker’s layout to their advantage and are managing to overpower the British when their mom appears. “Don’t move!” she cries. 

Ketch starts to move toward her, and Dean barks, “Hey! You heard her!” 

“I was talking to you,” she says, looking straight at Dean. 

Dean’s stomach drops out. What the hell is going on? Their mom takes a shot in his direction, and Ketch comes forward to snatch Dean’s gun out of his hand with a gloating look. 

“What did you do to her?” Sam demands. 

“Mummy always was a talented hunter. Just a little confused about obeying orders. I cleared up that confusion,” Toni says. 

Toni makes a move to follow Ketch out of the bunker, but he asks where she thinks she’s going. “All that talk about how we were expendable wasn’t idle chat.” He turns to Sam and Dean. “Your bunker is an excellent fortress, and an even better tomb. We’ve rejiggered the locks, shut off the water, and once we leave, the pumps that bring in the air shall reverse. Your oxygen should be gone in two days, maybe three. You dying in here, it’s almost poetic, hmm? Come along, Mary,” he says as he steps out of the bunker and shuts the door with a resounding clang behind him. Dean sprints up the steps and tugs on the door, but it won’t budge. He pounds on it helplessly as the bunker’s lights turn red. 

Several unsuccessful escape attempts pass, and the air gets thinner and thinner. Dean doesn’t bother praying to Cas. In the end, it’s the grenade launcher that’s their final option. Dean studies the blueprint of the bunker and figures out the best place to aim to get him into the sewer system. “You’re lunatics,” Toni says when she sees what he’s holding, “Action movie loving, cheeseburger eating, moronic American lunatics.” 

Toni and Sam leave the room, and Dean squeezes his eyes shut and pulls the trigger. 

Some of the concrete of the wall flies off and shreds into his leg. Dean winces, but adrenaline fuels him as he limps through the tunnel to get to the emergency override switch outside of the bunker. He stumbles back to the bunker’s front door, his leg aching more and more with every step. Sam lights up when he sees Dean, and together, they go to fumble through Baby’s glove box to look for a charged cell phone. They start to call hunters to warn them about the British Men of Letters putting a hit out on them, but Jody calls them before they get the chance to call her. “Hey,” she laughs nervously, “Your mom decided to pay me a visit.” 

Dean clenches his jaw. 

They hightail it to Jody’s, and when they get there, they see Alex and Jody standing next to their mom tied to a chair. “Hello, boys.” 

Alex sees the bloody state of Dean’s leg and directs him to a chair. They explain the situation with their mom to Jody. Alex prods at his leg with gentle fingers and Dean hisses. She goes off to get him a drink, and Jody comes over to him to pat him on the arm. He grabs at Jody’s hand and holds it for a second. He’s normally always a little touch starved, but it’s taken on a new edge now that Cas has fallen off the grid again. “Aw. You want to play mother to my son? He’s all yours,” his mom spits from her chair. 

“That’s not your mom,” Jody says. 

Dean looks away, and Sam bursts through the door with Toni in tow. She said she was the only one who could fix their mom, and that’s the only reason she’s still alive right now. “Here she is. Do your thing,” Sam says, giving Tony a tiny shove. 

She fumbles. “I, um, Mary’s programming—it’s permanent. The Mary you know, the good Mary, she’s hiding behind impenetrable psychic walls, and I’m afraid these walls can’t be torn down with grenades.” 

Dean swallows but stands up and cocks his gun. “All right. Time’s up. We only kept you alive for one reason.” 

“This is not going to stop,” she says, her voice pitching higher. “Soon enough, they’ll find out you’re alive, and then, well, if you want my advice: run.” 

“We’re not running,” Dean scoffs. 

“Well, then you die.” 

“Or we fight,” Sam says, like an idea is dawning on him. “The Men of Letters are strong because they’re connected, right? They’re unified. They’re killing us off because we all work alone. We can change that,” Sam says fervently, and Dean and Jody help him to call every hunter they know. 

Watching Sam address all the hunters, Dean feels a swell of pride. That’s the little kid that cried huge, heaving sobs whenever he skinned his knee, and now he’s standing up there giving a speech like a proper leader. Dean knows that Sam needs this, needs to know that he’s worthy of being followed, so when Sam asks if he’s ready, Dean says he’s not going. “I saw you. You’re ready for this. You show those sons of bitches who’s boss.” 

“What about you? What are you going to do?” Sam asks. 

“I’m going to save Mom. If she’s in there, then I’m going to try and find her, bring her back. But you got this, Sam. Come here,” Dean says, opening his arms. 

“You come back,” Dean says as he thumps Sam on the back. 

“Promise.” 

“Bitch,” Dean says. 

“Jerk,” Sam replies, and Dean gives him a little salute as he walks out the door. 

He turns to Toni. “Okay, you got inside my mom’s head once before. What about me? Could you get me in?” 

“Perhaps, but I need my rig.” 

“Where is it?” 

“At the base,” she says, and Dean snorts. That’s not happening. “I suppose with the right materials, I could cobble something together.” 

They go back to the bunker, and Toni gathers her supplies. She hooks up leads to both Dean and his mom’s heads and prepares a syringe with what she says will make this work. Dean handcuffs her to the table next to him. She gives him a dry look and injects him. 

Dean finds himself back in Lawrence, in his childhood home. His mom has long hair again, and she’s leaning over baby Sam. He tries to talk to her, but she doesn’t hear him. He grabs her arm, but she moves past him. Dean sees the marks his fingers left, though. “You’re choosing this,” he realizes. 

She kneels next to the young Dean. “I only want good things for you, Dean. I’ll never let anything bad happen to you.” 

Dean shakes his head. “I hate you,” he says, “You lied to me. You made a deal with Azazel, and maybe it saved Dad’s life, but then Yellow Eyes came waltzing into Sammy’s room, because of your deal. You left us alone. Because Dad was just a shell. His perfect wife, gone. Our perfect Mom, the perfect family was gone.” Dean starts to tear up. “And I—I had to be more than just a brother. I had to be a father, and I had to be a mother, to keep him safe. That wasn’t fair. I couldn’t do it. You want to know what it was like?” 

Dean walks over to his mom to look her in the face, but she turns away. “They killed the girl he loved. He got possessed by Lucifer. They tortured him in Hell, and he lost his soul. And it was all because of you.” 

Dean’s voice breaks as he says, “I hate you. And I love you because I can’t help it. You’re my mom. And I understand. I’ve made deals for people I loved more than once. I forgive you for all of it. Everything. We can start over, okay? But now, I need you to fight. I need you to look at me and see me.” 

His mom’s eyes are widening and _finally _meeting his when he’s jerked back to reality. He looks around dizzily to find Toni with her throat slit and Ketch standing over her. Dean lunges towards him, and they grapple. Ketch kicks out his bad knee, making Dean collapse. Ketch drags him up by the collar. “You want to know what your mother said about you, Dean? All those long days and even longer nights out on the road, hunting? Hmm?” Ketch punches Dean in the face, and Dean spits blood, his lip stinging. “Absolutely nothing,” Ketch sneers, tossing Dean to the floor. 

Dean scrabbles up and pushes Ketch against a shelf. They struggle for several more minutes, brawling with anything they can get their hands on until Ketch manages to get a hand on his gun to point it at Dean. He’s looking down the barrel of it, but Dean just stands there. Cas is gone. Sam doesn’t need him to be there anymore, so why should Dean care? Dean’s spiraling around and around until a gunshot rings out. Dean turns and sees him mom holding a gun and looks back to Ketch clutching his shoulder. Ketch drops his gun, and Dean kicks it away and goes to stand by his mom. 

“I knew you were a killer,” Ketch grunts, “You both are.” 

“You’re right,” Dean says as his mom shoots again, and Ketch falls backward, blood blossoming from the hole in his forehead. 

Sam turns the corner of the library as their mom is talking about how she’s sorry, about how she’s scared they can’t forgive her. Dean’s relieved he’s okay, that he came back, but Sam stops dead in his tracks. “Mom,” he whispers, “You don’t have to be scared of me.” 

He moves forward to pull her into a hug, and Dean’s heart clenches as part of his little family is reunited again. He feels Cas’s absence acutely as Sam pulls him into the hug, too. 

Sam rains on his parade even more when he tells him Lucifer is back. Dean groans and thumps his head on the table. “Fuck, we just cannot catch a break,” he complains. 

“How’s that possible?” their mom asks. 

“Crowley, I guess,” Sam shrugs. 

Sam says Hess told him Crowley was dead, but Dean’s not so sure. “He’s a cockroach. I’ll believe it when I see the body.” 

“We don’t need Crowley, anyway,” Sam says, “We need Rowena. She’s the one who can slam Lucifer back into the cage.” 

Sam pulls out his phone to call her and soon goes white with shock. Dean looks at him questioningly, and Sam turns on the speaker phone, so Dean can hear Lucifer’s voice. “Oh, if you’re looking for Rowena, she is presently indisposed which is a delicate way of saying I stomped on her face until the white meat showed and then I set her on fire, just in case. Messy, but it had to be done. I’m about to be a dad. Can’t raise the little nipper from a jail cell, can I? Speaking of that, you know where your little pal Castiel is?” 

Dean clenches his jaw but stays silent. 

“Go to hell,” Sam growls. 

“Good one! Witty. I’ll use that in the future. Well, I’ve really got to be going. With witch bitch gone, you can’t put me back in the cage, so you don’t matter. Buh bye!” 

They all exchange a look. “You know, Lucifer’s right. We can’t kill him, and we can’t slam his ass back in the cage.” 

“Maybe we play for time, find Cas and Kelly and keep them moving. If Lucifer can’t find them, he can’t hurt them.” 

“You think Castiel is going to go along with that?” their mom asks doubtfully. 

Dean snorts. “You think we’re going to give him a choice?” 

They debate about how to find them until they decide to start looking for weird events that could signal the nephilim’s birth being near. They’re all scouring the internet when Crowley makes an appearance. Dean lunges up and punches him. “Did you let Lucifer out?” he yells in rage. 

“Moose, a little help here,” Crowley says in a choked voice. 

“Dean, wait,” Sam says in a reasonable voice, “maybe he can help us. He worked the cage spell with Rowena.” 

“And if he can’t?”

“Well, then we kill him.”

Crowley sighs and agrees to help them. They track down where Cas is staying with Kelly and set out. 

When they arrive, they see a dilapidated cabin. Dean storms to the front door with his mom and Sam and pulls it open. “Dean?” Cas asks in surprise. 

Dean feels a rush of relief upon seeing him, but they don’t have time for this right now. “Is this place warded?” Sam asks. 

“Heavily enough to stop Lucifer?” Dean adds. 

“Lucifer?” Cas raises his eyebrows. 

Dean looks down as Cas fumbles for words. “I don’t—what are you doing here?” 

“Saving your ass!” Dean spits. 

“You and Kelly just taking off was a stupid move, but there’s no way we’re letting Lucifer get his hands on that kid. It ain’t happening.” 

“Look, Sam’s right, okay? We’ll work through our crap, we always do, but right now, we are here to get you, get Kelly, and get gone.” 

“She can’t be moved,” Cas protests as a groan from upstairs proves his point. 

“I’ll go check on her,” their mom says and brushes past them. 

“If he shows, can you flame on again and torch him like you did Dagon?” Dean asks. 

“I don’t know. That wasn’t me. That was the child, and in case you haven’t noticed, he’s a little busy,” Cas says wryly. 

Dean’s trying to think of a response when his leg twinges in pain. “Son of a bitch,” he hisses, clutching at his leg. 

Cas rolls his eyes and puts away his blade. “Here, Dean,” he says, reaching out to him, “Let me.” 

Dean lifts up his leg and gives a pleased smile when it doesn’t protest. “Thanks.” 

Sam walks towards the door, breaking them apart. “We should probably check the warding,” he says as he opens the door, but comes to an abrupt halt. 

Dean sees a yellow gash in the backdrop of the lake by the cabin. “What is that?” Sam asks, turning to Cas. 

“It’s a tear in space and time. It’s a doorway to another world. Through there, it’s earth, but different. It’s an alternate reality.” 

“Cas, how did this get here?” Sam asks. 

“With the child being born, his power seems to be puncturing the fabric of our universe.” 

“Awesome,” Dean complains. 

“What’s on the other side?” 

“You don’t want to know,” Cas sighs. 

“Probably,” Dean agrees, “But we need to.” 

Cas reaches out to the rift, gesturing for them to follow him. 

They emerge in a barren landscape with gunshots in the background. “This earth is locked in an eternal war between heaven and hell. There are armies of angels fighting hordes of demons, and the few humans that remain are caught in between,” Cas explains. 

Dean looks around, taking it all in. It reminds of purgatory, but actually a little bit worse since everything is wiped out. At least in purgatory, there were trees for cover. Dean thinks he’s taking this all in stride pretty well. That is, until he’s arrested at the sight of Bobby. 

Bobby doesn’t know them, and that stings more than Dean would like to admit. He says he’s never heard of them, but if there’s Bobby here, where the hell are they? 

“This is a world where you were never born. It’s a world you never saved,” Cas says. 

Dean looks at Sam in shock. Well, hell. 

When they return through the rift, Cas looks at him. “Are you all right?” 

“No, Cas. I’m pretty far from all right. I mean, we’ve got Lucifer on this side, we’ve got Mad Max world on that side. I mean, yeah, we’ve been down before, but this? I mean, I don’t even know where to start.” 

Crowley appears in the middle of their conversation, even after Dean left him at the bunker because there’s no way he was trusting Crowley near Lucifer again. “Turns out I’m the answer to all your problems,” Crowley says smoothly. 

They hatch a plan to trap Lucifer in the apocalypse world. Crowley doesn’t know the spell to trap him in the cage, so this will have to do. 

Cas pulls Dean away from the others for a minute. “I love you,” he says to his shoes. 

Dean hesitates. Cas knocked him out and ran away, but. It’s Cas. “I’m still pissed, and we need to talk about this more, but I think you’re stuck with me, now.” 

“Good,” Cas smiles. “Dean, everything is going to work out just fine. I have faith in the child. He showed me paradise, a place without pain,” he says earnestly. Dean shakes his head at that, but if that’s what Cas needs to believe to get through this, then whatever. They go off to find Sam and trap the devil. 

Things are going according to plan until suddenly Crowley is stepping out from behind his rock in the apocalypse world where he was supposed to be performing the spell that would shut the rift. Dean watches in confusion as Crowley stabs himself in the stomach, the familiar flickering lancing up his torso and into his eyes. Later, Sam will tell him that was part of the spell, but right now he’s staring in shock. Then, Cas steps through the rift, which was definitely not part of the plan. “Cas? Cas? Cas!” Dean shouts as Cas marches up to Lucifer, his angel blade extended. 

Dean tries to go with him, but Sam holds him back, drags him back through the rift. Back in their own world, Dean stares at the golden light, willing Cas to step through. Finally, he does. Dean feels a rush of relief that things have actually worked out for once. The relief is short lived, though. Dean watches in abject horror as a silver tipped blade pierces through Cas’s chest and white light shines from his eyes. “No!” Dean yells hoarsely. 

Dean stares in shock as Cas crumples to the ground and Lucifer steps out of the portal behind him. “Well, that was fun. Seriously, guys, points for trying. I’m super impressed, but play time’s over.” 

Dean manages to wrench his gaze away from Cas as their mom comes out from the house. “Get away from them,” she says. 

“I love you,” she says. 

Just like Cas said, earlier that day, before he went and—but Dean watches as his mom steps up and punches Lucifer in the face. She has brass knuckles from the Men of Letters, and she’s actually doing a pretty decent job of knocking Lucifer off balance. She pushes him towards the rift, and he’s falling backwards, but then he’s grabbing her jacket and pulling her in with him. The rift slams shut. 

“Mom? Mom? No!” Dean shouts, and then he’s just standing there repeating it. “No, no, no, no.” 

Dean hears Sam turning to run back into the house, no doubt to check on Lucifer Junior, but Dean’s powerless to do anything but drop to his knees next to Cas. Objectively, Cas looks peaceful, his eyes closed like he’s asleep. He looks like he’s going to wake up and blink his bright eyes at Dean any second. But sleep has never been a reassuring thing when it’s come to Cas, and it’s no different now. What the fuck just happened? Cas was fine one second, mouth open like he was getting ready to say something, and then—Dean chokes, suffocating on air that won’t seem to come as it hits him that Cas is gone. He saw him die, and now an angelic warrior is crumpled on the ground beside Dean. Maybe he should be crying, but he’s too numb. He fervently wishes this was a terrible nightmare that he’ll wake up from at any second and look over to see Cas with his knitting needles beside him in bed. 

There is no waking up, though. Dean looks up at the sky, hoping Chuck will appear to reassemble Cas like he’s done before. Chuck must have already fulfilled his miracle quota for the century, Dean thinks bitterly, because nothing happens. Dean swallows hard and looks down at the imprints of Cas’s wings stamped into the ground. 

_All I see turns to brown _

_As the sun burns the ground_

_And my eyes fill with sand_

_As I scan this wasted land_

_Try to find what I feel_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yikes ): buckle up for Dean's spiral of grief, I guess, because the show gave me plenty of good material to work with on that front


	6. In a Truly Astonishing Turn of Events, Lucifer Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Maybe the longest chapter yet? We run the gamut of Dean and Cas's relationship, that's for sure.  
warning for Dean's aftermath of Cas's death: unhealthy coping habits including but not limited to drinking, canon suicidal thoughts, bad relationship with food, Dean/other  
also featured: very temporary canon MCD

Dean sits back on his haunches as helplessness hits him in full force. He scrabbles around on the ground to grip Cas’s hand in his. It’s still warm, but it feels foreign while it’s limp in Dean’s grasp. Cas was always quick to give Dean a reassuring squeeze whenever Dean worked up the courage to hold his hand, but there’s nothing now. Dean bites back a sob and sets Cas’s hand down carefully, folding the fingers in. He’ll have time to mourn after they take care of the nephilim. He gives Cas one last look before getting up and walking into the house to find Sam.

In the house, things do not go according to plan. The nephilim is standing there talking to Sam, looking like he skipped puberty and went straight to being a very naked twenty year old. Dean shoots at him, but it only seems to piss him off. He holds up a hand, and Dean falls backward, unconscious before he hits the ground.

When Dean comes to, he groans and massages his temple. Sam is waking up beside him, and they both get to their feet and stumble outside the cabin. The kid is gone. “We have to go after him,” Sam says.

“Yeah, just, uh, give me a second, Sammy.”

Sam trails behind him as he walks back out to Cas’s prone body. “Help me get him inside.” Dean gestures at Cas’s feet while he walks around.

He crouches and cradles Cas’s head in his hands. Sam counts them down, and they pick him up. Dean clenches his jaw when he sees the way Cas’s arms stay stiffly at his sides. The rigor mortis is setting in, and it makes this too real. Cas is really gone. They carry him in the house and set him on the table. Dean goes off in search of a sheet to cover him up with and shakes it out over Cas’s body, Sam stretching it over the feet. Dean takes in a shuddering breath and pulls the cloth over Cas’s face. “Okay. Let’s go,” Dean finally says, the words sticking in his throat.

Sam knows better than to ask him if he’s okay.

_I felt the coldness of my winter_

_I never thought it would ever go_

_I cursed the gloom that set upon us_

_But I know that I love you so_

They drive along the main road out from the cabin. They don’t know if Jack can teleport, so they’re covering all their bases.

“Can we just talk about what happened back there?” Sam pleads from the passenger seat.

“Sure. Which part? Let’s see. Crowley’s dead, Kelly’s dead, Cas is—” Dean pauses, and he can’t even make himself say it, so he soldiers on, “Mom’s gone, and apparently the devil’s kid hit puberty in thirty seconds flat. Oh, and almost killed us.”

“Because you tried to shoot him!”

“I tried to shoot the monster, Sam. It’s kind of what we do.”

“We don’t know what he is yet, and I had it under control.”

“I’m sorry. Are you defending the son of Satan?” Dean asks incredulously.

“I’m not defending anything. I’m just saying—look, with everything’s that happened, obviously I’m spun out also, but we need a plan.”

“Kill him! That’s the plan. Look, right now all that matters is finding him and ending him before he hurts anyone else. And once we do that, we’ll figure everything else out.”

Sam hesitates. “What about Cas? Is he really dead?”

Dean clenches his jaw. Sam saw the same thing he did. “You know he is.”

Eventually, Sam makes him pull into some fast food place they pass. “Look, if he would’ve kept to the main road, he would’ve walked past it,” Sam defends.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Fine, just make it quick.”

“You’re not coming?”

“No. Look, maybe you’re right. Maybe the devil’s kid is in there just hanging out, or maybe he’s halfway across the county, torching Chicago. I’m going to call Jody, check in, see if she can’t help us put a nationwide APB on the creepy satanic nudist.”

Dean watches Sam walk into the restaurant and pulls out his phone. He calls Jody and explains the situation with Jack and the apocalypse world to her, and she whistles. “That’s some shit. Hey, are you good? You sound weird,” she says.

Dean lets out a half-hearted laugh. “Son of Lucifer is on the loose. No, I’m not okay.”

She hums. “You sure it’s just that?”

Dean quirks a sad smile. Trust Jody to see through his bullshit. “Mom, uh, kind of got stuck in that apocalypse world with Lucifer, and,” Dean forces himself to say it, “Cas is dead.”

“Dean,” she whispers in a pitying tone, even though she’s never even met Cas. “I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

Dean shakes his head before realizing she can’t see him. “No, I’m good,” Dean says with his eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” she says softly.

“Thanks, Jody. I’ll, uh, let you know.”

“I’m here if you need anything,” she says and leaves it Dean to hang up.

He does, and then he sits and stares out the windshield blankly. He swallows and gets out of the car.

He walks around to the back of the building and looks around to make sure he’s alone.

“Okay, Chuck, or God, or whatever. I need your help. See, you left us. You left us. You went off. You said the earth would be fine because it had me, and it had Sam, but it’s not, and we’re not. We’ve lost everything,” his voice breaks, “And now you’re gonna bring them back. Okay? You’re gonna bring back Cas, you’re gonna bring back Mom, you’re gonna bring them all back. All of them. Even Crowley.  
Because after everything that you’ve done, you owe us, you son of a bitch. So you get your ass down here, and you make this right, right here and right now.”

Apparently, Dean closed his eyes at some point, like a real prayer, because he has to open them now. He looks around, and nothing happens. He nods his head. He can’t say he was expecting it to. He turns to the stupid sign hanging on the door and punches it until it breaks into pieces and flies off. “Please,” he whispers, and he can almost hear himself whispering the same words into Cas’s skin on any of the nights they had together. “Please help us.”

Dean shakes out his hand and walks back to Baby. He’s surprised to see a woman standing by his car. “Whoa. What happened to your hand?” she asks.

Dean is so not in the mood for this. “Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing. You punch a wall or something?” She goes on to tell Dean about her roommate, Becky, and the time she punched a wall with Becky’s poster on it. “Becky was, and I say this in the most feminist, screw the patriarchy way, a giant super bitch. She’d take things, and break things, and piss people off, and just do whatever she wanted, no matter who it hurt.”

She continues prattling on until Sam blessedly comes out from the restaurant. “Dude, what’d you do to your hand?” he asks.

“Don’t ask. He’s super sensitive,” the woman says, rolling her eyes.

“You got anything?” Dean ignores her.

“Yeah, I know where he is.”

“Good. Great. Let’s go.”

They get into Baby and peel away.

Dean drives to the police station Sam directs him to, and they find Jack wigging out the same way he had done to them earlier. Sam comes up behind him and tases him. “Nice shot,” Dean comments, but the sheriff who comes into Dean’s view doesn’t see things the same way.

“What the hell is going on here?” she barks.

She puts Sam and Jack in a cell and takes Dean aside to question him. Dean’s debating about how he wants to approach this when he decides the truth would probably be best. She’s been having to deal with Jack’s crazy all day, after all.

He tells her, and she sits back in her chair and looks him over. “So what are you? Some kind of superhero?”

If he was a superhero, he wouldn’t be sitting here after having lost three out of the four most important people to him. Come on, he could’ve saved at least one. His comic book definitely would not be the type that would fridge the love interest. “I’m just a guy doing a job.”

Nothing can ever go right, so Dean’s barely surprised when angels show up trying to take the kid. Although, he is a little shocked that the woman drunk off her ass from earlier is one of them. He didn’t think any of them could walk around like they didn’t have a stick up their ass. It took Cas years to manage that.

Dean cuts himself off at the thought of Cas and refocuses. He watches the angel stab Jack in the chest with her blade. “If we can’t have him, no one can,” she hisses.

Sam lunges forward and stabs her, and she collapses. They both look to Jack. He pulls the blade out of his chest and looks down in wonder. “I’m fine.”

Later, they sit outside the police station, Jack on a bench away from them. “Listen, I think we should take him back to the bunker with us. I know what you’re going to say—” Sam starts.

“I agree.”

“So you changed your mind?” Sam asks in surprise.

“No. Nothing’s changed. He’s still the devil’s kid. He still brainwashed Kelly and Cas, and even if he’s not gone big bad yet, he will.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah, I do. Because when have things ever gone right for us? So until I figure out a way to end him, we’ll bring him home. At least there, the only people he can hurt are you and me.”

Back at the cabin, Dean’s drawn back to Cas’s body like a moth to a flame, but Cas’s flame has sputtered out, so shouldn’t his thrall on Dean have stopped? Dean swallows. He’s not sure which option would be better. On one hand, he wouldn’t have a gaping emptiness clawing at his insides, but on the other, he can’t imagine his life if Cas hadn’t carved out a spot in it. He throws back the sheet to look at Cas’s face one last time before covering it back up because it’s too damn painful. Dean tears down the curtain and rips them apart. Dean shakes his head. Cas deserved so much better than this, so much better than Dean. He binds the sheet around Cas with the curtain strips. He makes it to the second to last one before he breaks down. The numbness is fading and all that’s in its place is pain that feels like somebody’s jabbing an exposed nerve ending. He lays his head down on Cas’s unbreathing chest and sobs. It’s not fucking fair. They saved the damn world three times over, why can’t they just be allowed to be happy? Dean regrets all the time he spent pissed at Cas, and he wishes Cas would have trusted him enough to at least keep him in the loop while he was off with Kelly. The angel from earlier’s words echo back to him. “Castiel? He’s dead. All the way dead. Because of you.”

It hurt then, and it stings even worse now that he’s face to face with Cas’s corpse.

“Dean?” he hears Sam ask from the doorway.

Dean wipes at his eyes and pushes himself up from Cas’s body. He hates the pitying eyes Sam is giving him. “What?” he asks gruffly.

“We, uh, finished building the pyre.”

“Okay. Awesome. Let’s get him out there.” Dean claps his hands together, but it’s not fooling Sam.

“You want to talk about it first?”

“What’s there to say?”

“I don’t know, that he meant something to you, and it’s okay that you’re upset?”

“Duh. He was my best friend.”

Sam looks at him skeptically, but Dean shakes his head. “He’s dead because of me. I dragged him into all of this,” Dean says as fresh tears spring to his eyes.

Sam reaches out to give Dean a hug, and Dean lets himself be held.

They drive back to the bunker in near silence. Sam lets the silence lie for about five hours, but Dean doesn’t miss all the looks he gives him. Dean’s almost offended he looks more worried when he looks at Dean than when he glances at Jack sleeping in the backseat.

Sam’s voice breaks through the quiet, almost making Dean jump. “Hey, we’ve got probably 12 hours until we’re home. You want me to drive?”

“Do I ever want you to drive?” Dean asks dryly.

Sam shoots him an exasperated look, but it quickly softens. “Look, losing Mom and Cas, that’s a lot to process, especially on no sleep. And the kid—”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “The kid? Come on, man, you know how this plays out. This time, let’s start with the obvious. As soon as I find a way to take care of it.”

Sam gives him a bitchface. “Dean, ‘the problem’ might be our only shot at saving Mom.”

“Mom’s gone. There’s no fixing that.” There’s no way Lucifer left her alive, Dean thinks, but doesn’t add.

Eventually, Sam convinces him to stop at a motel. Dean grumbles because he already knows he won’t be able to sleep. They grab burgers to eat before they hit the hay, and Dean notices Jack imitating his movements. Irritated, Dean asks, “Okay, all right, will you stop?”

Sam shoots him a glare and changes the subject, distracting Jack. Dean supposes that’s for the best. No need to get the monster that could kill them in their sleep riled up.

Dean looks up sharply when he hears the floor boards outside the door creak. Sam follows his lead and grabs his gun. Dean throws open the door, only to see, “Donatello?”

“Sam? Dean?” Donatello asks, stumbling into their room, “Is God with you?”

Dean and Sam exchange looks. Donatello tells them he’s coping with his soullessness, courtesy of Amara, and that he was drawn here by a powerful presence. Dean buries his face in his hands. Great. A juiced up nephilim spitting out a beacon is exactly what he wanted to deal with. Guess he won’t be getting his four hours after all.

They take Jack to get tattoo sigils, and Dean and Sam stand off to the side to resume their argument. “You heard Donatello. No evil vibes from Jack,” Sam whisper argues.

Dean rolls his eyes. “That proves nothing, except that you’re way too attached to this kid. You need to see this for what it is, okay? I mean, what do you need, a sign?”

The tattooist is working diligently, when his machine starts fritzing out. It throws out sparks, and he’s flung against the wall. After they make sure he’s okay, Dean violently gestures at Sam. “Well, there’s your sign.”

Later, in the midst of some heated arguing, the kid disappears. Dean huffs out his nose. Apparently, he doesn’t like conflict. He blinks, the reminder of Cas hitting him square in the solar plexus. He rubs at the ever-present crease in his forehead. He lets Sam stalk off to deal with Jack. He needs a drink.

When Dean wanders back to their room the next morning, Sam’s there to ambush him with a talk.

“If we’re going to keep Jack on the right side of things, we have to be on the same page,” Sam says, looking up at him earnestly.

“Okay. That’s the problem, though, because we’re not on the same page. Like, at all.”

Sam sighs. “Look, we just lost people we love, people who have been in our lives for a long time, and everything’s upside down. I get it, but we’ll find a way. We’ll fix it because that’s what we do. Jack wants to do the right thing. He’s scared of death of who he is, and he’s scared of you.”

There’s a knock on the door. It’s Donatello. “Got a minute? I wanted to talk to you about Jack.”

Sam wrinkles his brow. “I just talked to you about Jack.”

Now, it’s Donatello’s turn to look confused. “I was grabbing breakfast burritos.”

They rush to Donatello’s room, where they had stuck Jack during the night. He’s gone.

They find him with a demon wearing a Donatello suit coaching him how to resurrect some truly nasty looking things. Dean whips out his gun and shoots the thing. The demon staggers a bit and loses Donatello’s form. He clenches his fist and Sam, Dean, and Donatello scrabble for their throats, airways blocked. The fissure in the ground starts to close, and Jack screams, “You’re hurting my friends!”

Dean can breathe again, but he’s still not convinced Jack is on their side in all of this.

Back at the bunker, they decide the demon was Asmodeus, the last prince of Hell. About fucking time they dealt with the last one. They keep crawling out of the woodwork like cockroaches.

Dean walks back to his room to attempt to get enough sleep that he can stay vertical when he notices a weird sound coming from the room Sam put Jack in. He rushes forward when he hears cries of pain. He stops dead in the doorway at the kid repeatedly stabbing himself with a knife. “What the hell? Give me that! Don’t be an idiot! A, this is not going to do anything to you, okay?” Dean says, waving around the knife he grabbed from Jack, “and B, what the hell?” he repeats.

“Exactly. What the hell am I? I can’t control whatever this is. I will hurt someone.” He says in a strangled voice.

“You know, my brother thinks you can be saved.”

Jack searches his face. “You don’t believe that.”

“No, I don’t. If I’m right, and it comes to killing you, I’ll be the one to do it.”

Dean retreats to his room.

Dean sees the worried looks Sam won’t stop shooting him. He knows he should be handling this better; he knows Sam is hurting, too, but he can’t bring himself to care. The guy he’s in love with is dead, burned to ash on that pyre. Dean wishes he would have saved Cas’s trench coat, but maybe it was for the best, anyway. Dean feels like he’s gotten shot with rock salt anytime a reminder of Cas creeps up on him. He found some rocks and pressed flowers that only Cas could have hidden in his sock drawer, and he bawled for an hour, curled up in the middle of his bed and clutching one of the stones to his chest.

Dean can’t sleep, just like every other night, but this night he decides to go try to fall asleep in Cas’s old room instead. It has even less of Cas’s personality imbued in it than Dean’s room has, though, until Dean notices the leather bound journal peeking out from Cas’s pillow. Dean smiles ruefully. As he flips through the pages, he realizes that what started as an informational text on angels turned into a love letter somewhere along the way. Dean shoves it back under the pillow and curses it for giving him false hope. It’s filled with too many stories of Cas miraculously finding his way back to Dean, but that’s not going to happen this time. Cas is really gone. The reality of that still twists his heart just as painfully as it did the first time, when he’d looked at Cas’s wings stretched out on the ground in front of him and realized he was truly dead.

Dean can hear Sam calling his name, and he scrambles up from Cas’s bed, but it’s too late because the door knob is already turning. Sam sees him on Cas’s now-rumpled bed and frowns. “Dean…” he says.

“What?” Dean snaps, standing up.

Sam raises his hands in surrender. “I made breakfast.”

Dean looks at the clock in surprise. He thought it was two in the morning, at the latest, but six has gone and passed him by. It doesn’t matter though. “I’m not hungry.”

Sam’s brow furrows even more. “You need to eat, Dean. Starving yourself isn’t going to bring them back.”

“Yeah, well. I was too worthless to save them, anyway, so why bother? They’re both gone. You saw Cas’s wings, same as me.”

“Do you think he’d want you to treat yourself like this?” Sam asks softly.

Dean shakes his head in frustration. “I don’t know what he wanted, Sam. He ran away from us.”

“He was trying to keep us safe,” Sam argues.

“Yeah, and then he went and died, so a fat lot of good being safe does me.”

Sam looks at him, really looks. “Don’t say that.” He reaches a hand out to Dean’s wrist, but Dean yanks it away and stalks off to his bedroom. If Cas getting stabbed would stop replaying every time he closes his eyes, maybe he’d be able to keep them closed long enough to fall asleep.

They get a call from Missouri Mosely after ten years of radio silence. Dean jumps at the chance to do something other than stare at his walls or the kid, but it turns out Sam called Jody to handle it. Dean frowns. “Why would you do that?”

“We need to stay here and help Jack learn how to control his powers. Jody can handle this.”

Dean swallows past a lump in his throat at the thought of Cas teaching Jack the things he needs to know. How could he or Sam ever hope to do that?

“Maybe she can,” Dean says, “Or maybe she ends up dead because you wanted to skip out on her to babysit the antichrist.”

Dean sets off.

When he pulls back from Missouri’s hug, she looks him in the eyes. “I’m sorry for your losses.”

Dean manages a weak smile. He clings to Jody when she moves into hug him.

They find out what they’re after is a wraith. Missouri has a vision of it going for her son and granddaughter, but she refuses to go with Jody and Dean to check it out. “He won’t have anything to do with me,” she shakes her head.

“I don’t like that at all,” Dean says.

“You don’t have to like it. You just have to do it. You save my family, you hear me, Dean Winchester?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies, despite his misgivings.

Jody glances at him furtively from the passenger seat.

“What?” Dean asks, but he can’t muster any heat to go with it.

“You okay, kiddo?” She pats his knee.

Dean chokes on his breath as her words dredge up the past week to the surface. “When is it going to get easier?”

She smiles at him sadly. “It will, eventually. I still think about my husband almost every day, but it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to.”

“Who said anything about husbands?” Dean jokes weakly and pretends to laugh.

Jody gives him a soft look. “Cas is the only thing I ever hear about beyond how your hunts are going when you call me. When your mom came back, that didn’t rank a mention, but your movie marathon with Cas did?”

Dean stares ahead, tears gathering in his eyes but willing them not to drip.

They protect Missouri’s family, learning that her granddaughter’s psychic, too, but Missouri ends up killed by the wraith. Dean shakes his head. “She knew this was going to happen.”

Jody pats him on the back.

Dean gives her a ride back to her house, and she wheedles at him until he agrees to stay for a couple days. Dean pushes around what Jody cooks for him. He appreciates the thought, but his stomach threatens to rebel if he forces more than a couple of bites down. Jody stares at him pointedly but doesn’t comment, just takes the plate when he pushes it away from himself. Jody bundles him on the couch in a crocheted blanket her mom made for her, and Dean breathes the cedar scent in. She flips on Netflix and scrolls down until she finds a suitable romcom. She switches to Disney movies after she looks over and sees Dean’s shoulders shaking. “I’m so fucking tired of crying,” he says.

“I know,” she answers and presses a glass of water into his hand.

She sits next to him and combs her fingers through his hair. Dean leans into the touch. Claire and Alex snigger when they walk by them, but they quickly lose their smirk when they see Dean’s expression.

Dean buries his face in Jody’s shoulder.

Dean lets a couple days pass in this fashion before his guilt can’t let him stay away from the bunker any longer. “You know you’re welcome here any time. Alex and Claire don’t let me parent them anymore. I have empty nest syndrome,” she raises her voice, so they can hear, “even if they’re still mooching off me!”

Dean smiles and pulls Jody into a hug. “Thank you,” he breathes.

His better mood ends when Sam has to immediately confront him as soon as he walks into the bunker. Dean just asked one simple question about how the kid was, and then Sam starts going off on him. “He’s messed up because of you. Dean, you said you’d kill him!”

“It wasn’t exactly like that,” Dean hedges.

Sam crosses his arms. “Then how exactly was it?”

“I told him the truth. See, you think you can use this freak, but I know how this ends, and it ends bad.”

Then Sam has to bring up the whole demon blood thing, and how Dean didn’t give up on _him_.

“Look, I know you think that you can him as some sort of an interdimensional can opener, and that’s fine, but don’t act like you care about him! All you care about is what he can do for you! So if you want to pretend, that’s fine. But me? I can barely look at the kid. When I do, all I can see is everybody we’ve lost!”

“Mom chose to take that shot on Lucifer. That is not on Jack!”

“And what about Cas?”

“What about Cas?”

“He manipulated him, he made him promises, told him paradise on earth, and Cas bought it, and you know what that got him? It got him dead! Now, you might be able to forget about that, but I can’t!” Dean bellows and storms out of the room to go bury his face in his pillow. He tries to breathe Cas’s scent in, but it’s gone, just like him. His hand catches on the edge of the mixtape he liberated from Cas’s room. Dean fights the impulse to fling it against the wall and carefully sits it on his bedside table to take out to Baby to add to the collection. _Just another cassette, _he tells himself, even though he knows it’s a willful lie.

Sam convinces him to go on a case with the kid. It goes better than Dean would have expected. “You did good today, Jack,” he forces himself to say.

Dean’s dad only ever recounted the ways he messed up on a hunt, and Dean’s not going to be like that.

Eventually, Dean cedes Sam has a point about the whole trying to eat more thing. He sits in the kitchen with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. He feels Cas’s absence like a phantom pain, throbbing like the time he cut off the very tip of his pinky with a machete. He’s using strawberry jelly because that’s all they had, and if he went out and bought grape jelly, he wouldn’t have been able to pretend it was a coincidence.

Sam comes bustling into the kitchen. “PB and J for breakfast? Strong work,” he says, offering Dean a beer.

Dean squints at him. He doesn’t want Sam’s pity eight AM beers. He doesn’t want Sam to have to be relieved that he came out of his room and is actually eating something. He resolves to do better.

Sam’s niceties extend even while they’re out on the case Sam found, just them, no Jack, and he offers to go to a strip club with Dean. Dean swallows. He doesn’t know that he’s ready for that, but he goes anyway. Sam leaves early, leaving Dean to nurse a beer at the bar with a not so subtle wink and urging to pick someone up. A hot woman keeps glancing his way, dressed in jeans and a tight shirt, with a very _big _hairstyle. When he works up a sufficient enough buzz, he orders her a drink. She sends him a wink and a wave when the bartender delivers it, so Dean sidles up to her. “Hello, there,” she rumbles in a deep voice, and Dean raises his eyebrows.

“I use he pronouns, by the way. You look a little confused, there, handsome,” the man says, grinning, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, like this is a reaction he gets a lot.

Dean shrugs his shoulders. “It’s, uh, not really a deal breaker. Between you and me,” Dean looks around conspiratorially, “I have RuPaul’s first three seasons on DVD. It’s right next to my Dr. Sexy complete works,” Dean grins, and he feels lighter, somehow. 

The man brightens, and they sit there, drinking and talking companionably, until the man, Dylan, leans over to ask Dean, “So, what exactly were you hoping to get out of this night?”

His lips tickle Dean’s ear as Dean ponders that. “I just want to not think for a while,” he decides.

Dylan smirks at him. “I can do that.”

Dylan drags him out of the bar by the hand but pauses as a thought seems to strike him. “I live two hours from here,” he frowns.

They drive separately to Dean’s motel, neither one under any illusions about the meaning of this night, and Dean gets them a room. When he walks in the door to their room, he barely flips on the light switch before Dylan is dropping a duffel bag onto the ground with a thud and pressing Dean against the door to kiss him. Dylan pulls away, and Dean tries to chase after his lips. Dylan huffs a laugh. “Someone’s eager,” he comments as he works Dean’s tie loose.

He slides it from its knot and holds it up to Dean’s eyes. He raises his eyebrows at Dean, and Dean gives a nod of assent. Dylan ties it behind his head. Dean’s secretly relived at the lack of sight. It makes it easier for him to get lost in the sensation of Dylan pressing kisses up his body, and not be so crushed by guilt, which is dumb, because now more than ever, he and Cas are definitively not together. Gentle fingers break Dean out of his thoughts and work on getting him out of clothes. He reaches forward blindly to try to tug Dylan’s shirt over his head. He lets him until Dean’s fingers are on his bra clasp. Dylan’s hands push his away and redirects them to his waist instead. Dean runs his fingers up and down Dylan’s stomach until he’s startled by something that feels like suede dragging against his thigh. Dylan plasters himself against Dean’s torso. “You said you didn’t want to think, right? What’s your safe word?” he asks.

Dean blanks. He hasn’t exactly done this before, but he’d be lying if it didn’t seem like an okay way to get his mind off of things. “Asparagus,” Dean picks, thinking of Sam, but quickly trying to get rid of the thought. Sam on the brain during sex is not Dean’s idea of a good time, to say the least.

Dylan’s hands prod at him until he flips over onto his stomach. Dylan’s hands press into his back, working out some of the knots. “Damn, you really are tense,” he whistles. “No wonder you wanted to stop thinking.”

When Dean’s a relaxed pile of goo, Dylan says, “I’m going to start flogging you now. Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Dean croaks.

After confirming Dean’s safe word, Dylan sets to work. He keeps it pretty light, in Dean’s opinion, but it comes with a pleasant thrum that makes him feel something other than crippling despair. Dylan skips over the part of his lower back that would spell trouble for his kidneys, and Dean starts to relax. It’s nice to lay here and not worry about anything, just go wherever Dylan takes him. Dean closes his eyes behind the blindfold and revels in the sensation, his ass starting to throb a little, now. Dylan taps him on the thigh. “Can I fuck you?”

Dean nods wordlessly. “I need a yes or no, dude,” he says.

“Yes, as long as you’ve got a condom,” Dean mumbles.

Dean can almost feel Dylan’s grin as he kisses Dean’s cheek. The wet smack of it feels good in contrast to the slight ache emanating from his ass. Dean feels a slick finger circle his hole before pushing in. Dean’s so boneless, he doesn’t even tense up at the intrusion. Dylan makes quick work of stretching him, and then Dylan’s cock is pushing inside him. He goes slowly, giving time for Dean to adjust, but Dean begs him to just fuck him. Dylan obliges, nailing his prostate again and again until Dean’s seeing white. Eventually, Dylan collapses on top of him after he pulses into the condom. He pulls Dean’s blindfold up, and Dean blinks against the sudden onslaught of light. Dylan’s still wearing his bra, but Dean doesn’t comment, just reaches to tug Dylan’s arms around him, wanting to be held and to feel safe again. Dean’s thinking he’s a doing a decent job of holding himself together, considering the circumstances, until Dylan whispers, “You’re gorgeous, honey.”

Dean’s mind echoes back to him the same words being spoken in the register of Cas’s voice, and he loses it. Tears spring to his eyes, and he buries his face into Dylan’s shoulder. Dylan makes soothing noises and pets Dean’s hair. Dean registers his shoulders are shaking. The tears are coming in earnest now. He’d been trying not to full out sob while he was at Jody’s, but everything comes pouring out now. When Dean doesn’t stop crying, Dylan pulls away. “I’m not sure how good of aftercare this is, but you seem like you need to get drunk, pronto.” Dylan goes to his duffel and pulls out several bottles of alcohol, grinning at Dean. Dean snorts a laugh, and he’s pretty sure he just blew a snot bubble. “Not good aftercare, but you came prepared with them?”

Dylan shrugs. “I was ready for anything.”

Dean smiles through his tears, trying to will them to stop. “What a boy scout,” he says, but that reminds him even more of Cas.

Dean takes in a shuddering breath and wipes at his eyes. He reaches for the bottles, and he drinks until everything starts to fade together.

Dean wakes up the next morning with his back aching and his head pounding. The room seems to have stopped spinning, but that just means Dean can pinpoint all the spots where there’s something digging into his back. His mouth feels like it did after he ate that handful of worms to make Sam laugh when he was in seventh grade. Dean notes that he must have convinced Dylan to lose his bra at some point last night because it’s wrapped around his head. The flogger is also right beside him, and it seems to make his ass remember that it should be hurting, too, so it joins the cacophony of complaints his body is making against him. He runs his fingers over it and registers again how soft it is. Dean gingerly stands up. He reaches up to rub at his temples and realizes his tie is still in his hair. He takes a closer look at the room and realizes that they must have migrated to Sam’s room sometime during the night. Sam’s gone, so that means he woke up this morning and saw Dean lying there. Great. He guesses it’s time for another sex talk with Sam, anyway, have to keep him up to date when the only action he gets is with his right hand. Dean knows that’s not true, but it makes him feel better to think it. He makes a face at the thought of his little brother having sex.

Their case leads them to an old asylum, because of _course_ it does, so it’s not surprising when they stumble on a fuck ton of ghosts. Even after they burned what they thought was anchoring the doctor there, their breath is still fogging up the air. They quickly realize it’s all of the good doctor’s patients as beds begin to rattle and fixtures on the wall shake. “These bodies have to be buried in this house somewhere,” Dean says.

“Okay, so we check from top to bottom,” Sam reasons.

“There’s no time.” Dean rustles through his duffel bag.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m going to find out where the bodies are buried.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, waiting.

Dean holds up two syringes. “I’m gonna ask them. One of these stops the heart, one starts it up again.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, no, no.”

“Look, they’re too weak for us to talk to them on this side of the veil, so I’m going to go ask them.”

“Dean, you’re talking about killing yourself. That’s an insane risk to take!”

Dean shrugs and drives the needle into his chest. If it works, it works, and if it doesn’t… well, it doesn’t. He can’t say he’ll be overly bothered. He presses the plunger down. He can vaguely hear Sam still protesting in the background, but the words are starting to just sound like a dull buzz. He gasps as the liquid in the syringe makes him feel like he’s on fire, tingling spreading from his chest to his fingertips until he doesn’t feel anything anymore.

Dean finds the kid he had talked to as an FBI agent—another person he’s let down, but at least the kid tells him where all the bodies where. He dashes back up to his body and watches as Sam injects him with the other needle. Dean watches as Sam shakes his body, but nothing happens. From behind him, he hears, “Hey, Dean. We need to talk.”

_Billie_. What the fuck?

“I saw Cas kill you,” Dean gets out.

“Yeah? How’s that working out for him? It’s funny to hear a Winchester talk about the finality of dying. This reality has rules. So many rules—and one of them? Kill one incarnation of Death, and the next reaper to die takes his spot. When Castiel stabbed me in the back, it turns out I got a promotion.”

Billie takes them to a library or something that’s filled wall to wall with books. “Welcome to my reading room.”

“So, am I dead?”

Billie scoffs at him. “You killed yourself.”

“Are you keeping me dead?” he asks in a neutral voice.

“That depends on you.”

“O-kay. Well, congratulations on the promotion, but I got a house full of ghosts waiting on me and my brother to get back to, so if it’s up to me…”

Billie smirks at him again. It’s starting to become just a little infuriating. “I said it depends on you, not that it’s up to you.” She goes on to ask how they had got to the apocalypse world.

Dean leans against one of her shelves. “What’s in it for me?”

“What do you want?”

Dean hesitates. “Free the ghosts.”

“It’s done.”

Dean explains about Jack, how his birth ripped that seam open. She hums. “You’ve changed. When you bargained with me, you could have asked to go back, to live.”

He shrugs helplessly. “Figured with you in charge, there’s no getting back for me.”

“That doesn’t sound like the Dean Winchester I know and love. Maybe you’re not that guy anymore, the guy who saves the world, who thinks he’ll always win no matter what. You have changed, and you tell people you’ll work through it, but you know you won’t and that scares the hell out of you. Or am I wrong?” She raises her eyebrows in challenge.

Dean flaps his hands against his sides. “What do you want me to say? It doesn’t matter. I don’t matter. I couldn’t save Mom, I couldn’t save Cas, and I couldn’t even save a scared little kid. I’m not going to beg. If it’s my time, it’s my time.”

Billie gestures to the shelf behind her. “All of these notebooks tell a version of how you’ll die, but which one’s right depends on you and the choices you make.”

“I guess I made my choice.”

“Unfortunately, none of these books say you die today. Since I got this new job, I stand witness to a much bigger picture. Do you know what I see? You and your brother, you’re important. She shakes her head bitterly, and, yeah, Dean’s sure that wasn’t an easy pill for her to swallow. “You have work to do, and that’s all you need to know. You want to die, but I say keep living.”

“Hmm. I need to know. My mom—” Dean starts to ask her, but then he’s gasping in a breath, pulled back into his body. He stares up at Sam, who gulps in a breath of his own. “Hey. You’re okay.”

Later, Sam makes him talk about what happened. Dean tries to brush it off, says that they’ll talk about it sometime soon, but Sam shoots him a skeptical look. He reluctantly explains about Billie. Sam gives him a dumbfounded look. “Are you okay?”

“No, Sam, I’m not okay. I’m pretty far from okay. You know, my whole life, I always believed what we do was important. No matter what the cost, no matter who we lost, whether it was Dad or, or, Bobby. And I would take the hit, but I kept on fighting because I believed that we were making the world a better place. And now Mom, and Cas, and I just don’t know.”

“So now you don’t believe anymore.”

“I just need a win. I just need a damn win.”

They ride in Baby in silence, heading back to the bunker. Dean feels the urge to pop Cas’s mixtape in, but even he isn’t up for that much self-flagellation. He’s distracted from the impulse when his phone rings with an unknown number. “Yeah?” he picks up.

“Dean, it’s me,” _Cas’s _voice says.

Dean’s mouth drops open, and Sam looks over at him. “What?” he asks.

“Cas? Cas? Holy shit. Where are you?”

Cas tells him, and the road starts to swim in front of Dean. He blinks. “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Fuck. It’s so good to hear your voice, and I swear to God, if this is some monster, I’m going to rip your lungs out.”

He hears Cas laugh softly. “I missed you, too. I’m at a payphone, so I have to go, but I’ll see you soon, okay?” Cas hangs up.

Dean looks over to Sam, who’s staring at him unabashedly now. “That was Cas,” he announces pointlessly.

Sam looks skeptical, but he still says, “Well, we better find him and bring him home, then.”

Dean reaches down into the footwell to find the cassette. It’s not so painful to think about, anymore. “Over the Hills and Far Away” plays, and Dean allows himself to roll down his window and grin. 

When he finally sees Cas, everything else seems to fall away.

“I don’t even know what to say,” Sam says.

“I do. Welcome home, pal,” Dean says, moving forward to cling to Cas.

Cas huffs a laugh and clutches back at him just as tight. “Don’t call me pal, _sweetheart_,” he whispers warningly in Dean’s ear.

It’s so damn good to hear Cas’s voice again. Dean was terrified he was going to forget what it sounded it like, but it’s just as familiar as ever. He quirks a smile before pulling away, so Sam can have a hug, too.

“How long was I gone?” Cas asks.

Dean knows if the roles were reversed, Cas would have an exact count, but that was too depressing, even for him. No matter how long Cas was gone, it always would have been the same answer, anyway. “Too damn long.”

Cas explains about how he was in the empty, and how he thought it was them that woke him up. Dean frowns, but not for long. Who is he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Sam gracefully slides in the back seat, so Cas can sit in the front with Dean. Dean looks back, and Sam is leaning against the cool window with his eyes shut. Dean takes that as license to grab Cas’s hand and settle it on his thigh. “I was kind of a mess without you,” he admits.

Cas’s thumb presses gentle circles into Dean’s leg. “I know the feeling. I was lost when the Secret Service took you.”

“Well, we’re back together now, right?”

Cas slides closer and leans against him. “That’s right.”

_It is the springtime of my loving_

_The second season I am to know_

_You are the sunlight in my growing_

_It isn’t hard to feel me glowing_

Dean patiently waits until they’re home, until after Cas has met Jack, until after Jack explains the case he thinks he found, to be dealt with tomorrow, until after it kind of seems like Jack was the one to bring Cas back, until after they’re lying in bed, staring at each other in wonder to take one of Cas’s hands in his and bring his other hand up to rest on Cas’s face.

“You really need to stop trying to get yourself killed when I’m upset with you,” Dean finally says.

He strokes his thumb over Cas’s cheekbone. “I just want you to let me in on things. We’re partners, Cas; you’re not my babysitter. Better together, remember?”

Cas heaves a sigh. “I just don’t want you to get hurt. I never realized how delicate humans were until I met you, you know.”

Dean snorts. “I’ve been called a lot of things, but delicate isn’t one of them, sunshine. I want to help you with anything you need. If you die on me again…” Dean trails off. “It’s been rough,” he finally says.

“I’m sorry.”

Dean squeezes his hand. “Don’t let it happen again,” he says, and then they’re kissing, finally.

Their frantic energy ebbs because of how tired they both are, and they end up trading lazy hand jobs. Dean’s adrenaline is crashing, but he doesn’t want to sleep because he’s afraid to wake up and find out this was all a dream. He reaches over to his nightstand and grabs his phone. He takes a picture of Cas blinking at him in confusion, proof that this is real, and thumbs down his contact list. 

Dean: _he’s back_

After a few minutes, his phone vibrates with a reply.

Carmen: _I can see how you resisted my feminine wiles, if that’s what you were waiting for to come back to you_

Dean smiles and puts down his phone to look over at Cas, who’s still squinting at him. “I love you,” Dean says.

Cas reaches out a hand to slide down Dean’s arm. “I love you, too,” he breathes.

When he finally falls asleep, he sleeps soundly for the first time in too damn long.

In the morning, they set off for Dodge City. Jack’s case sounded a little weak, to be honest, but he’s not going to pass up a chance to visit his personal Cowboy Capital of the World with Cas.

He makes Sam babysit Jack while he drags Cas around to find a cowboy hat. He settles on a cheap one that won’t max out his credit card, but he makes Cas try on several until Dean’s heart is content. If he snaps a picture when Cas isn’t looking, that isn’t anyone’s business but his.

The case is shaping up to be one of Dean’s top ten hunts of all time until things with Jack start to go sideways. Jack tries to take down the shapeshifter they’re after, but a bank guard gets stuck in the crossfire and falls down and doesn’t get up.

“Cas, I didn’t mean to. Castiel, you have to heal him,” Jack stutters.

Cas kneels down next to the guard and puts his fingers on the man’s forehead, but nothing happens.

“He’s dead,” Sam announces grimly.

Jack’s face crumples, and Dean can’t help but feel a little sympathy for the guy. Sam and Cas take Jack back to the bunker while Dean finishes the case. He can’t help but grumble a little that he’s being separated from Cas so soon after getting him back, but he’s mollified when Cas steals a quick kiss from him before they depart.

When he gets back to the bunker, he tells Sam, Cas and Jack that he took care of everything, that it’s all good.

“Good?” Jack asks in outrage, “How is that good? I killed someone! What was his name? The guard? Did he have a family?”

“Jack, don’t do this to yourself,” Cas says softly.

“Look, this life, what we do, it’s not easy. We’ve all done things we regret,” Sam chimes in.

“Just don’t. You’re afraid of me. Maybe I am just another monster,” he says, looking straight at Dean.

Dean shakes his head. “You’re not. I thought you were. I did, but like Sam said, we’ve all done bad. We all have blood on our hands. If you’re a monster, we’re all monsters.”

“Every time I try and do something good, people get hurt. I thought I was getting better. I don’t know what I am, but I do know I can’t make the world a better place, not like this. I can’t even do one good thing, and I know that if I stay, I’m going to hurt you. All of you, and I can’t… You’re all that I have. I have to go.”

They step forward, anticipating whatever he’s going to do, but Jack raises a hand and they fly across the war room. “I’m sorry,” Jack says mournfully before disappearing.

Cas is sullen for the rest of the night. “Come on, Cas,” Dean wheedles, “Let’s watch a movie. You’re a much better watching partner than Sam.”

Cas relents, and they sit pressed together in the Dean Cave. Dean relishes Cas’s warmth and breathes in his scent. He can tell Cas is still preoccupied with the Jack issue, and, hell, Dean is, too, but he wants to savor this moment. “Fuck, I missed you so much, baby,” he says, leaning his head on Cas’s shoulder.

Cas threads their fingers together in response and presses a kiss against Dean’s hair.

Apparently, Dean didn’t do enough to assuage Cas’s worries because the next morning he says he’s going to speak with the angels, to see if they know where Jack is.

Dean pushes back his chair and stands up. “All right. Well, let’s go.” There’s no way in hell he’s letting Cas go meet up with some angels by himself after he just got knifed by one. Well, maybe by a fallen one, but the point still stands.

Cas gives him a sad smile. “Dean, you can’t accompany me. My contact is already anxious about meeting and won’t speak in the presence of a stranger.”

“So introduce me. Then I’m not a stranger. I’ll bring a six pack,” Dean argues.

Cas shakes his head. “I swore I would protect this boy. Let me do this.”

Dean slumps, defeated. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Regular cases seem like they’re just turning into a distraction from the shit storm that is the rest of his life, and the thought is disturbing. They get wind of some ritualistic kills, so they set off and run straight into Ketch. Ketch, who Dean saw his Mom shoot. He claims he’s Ketch’s twin. Dean’s skeptical, but Sam digs out the paper trail to prove it. Dean huffs an unhappy breath out of his nose.

Dean calls Cas. It’s definitely because he wants to tell him about the travesty that is Ketch’s twin (well, Dean guesses he can just call him Ketch, too, but then he’d get himself confused), and not because he needs to confirm that he’s still breathing.

“Any news on Jack? We need to find him fast,” Dean asks.

“Nothing yet, but interesting things are happening. We…” Cas trails off.

“What?”

“Yes, I would like to see you, too, the sooner, the better,” Cas says abruptly.

Dean blinks. “Well, hell, Cas, you’re the one who wouldn’t let me come with you,” he says, but he notices he’s talking to dead air.

He rushes off to find Sam. That was weird, even for Cas. “I’ll track him,” Sam blessedly says.

They track Cas’s phone to a seedy looking bar. Dean frowns. This isn’t the typical angel hang out. They walk in and get ambushed by demons. They’re getting over powered when Ketch’s twin rushes in. Dean stops to watch him fight, scowling. Dean raises his gun. He’s gone toe to toe with Ketch, so he thinks he knows what his style looks like, and this is it. Ketch lifts his hands in surrender. He starts to explain to them, then darts a hand to his waist and throws a smoke bomb. Dean and Sam cough and stumble to the door of the bar just in time to see the tail lights of Ketch’s motorcycle. Dean throws a kick at the door frame in frustration then pulls out his phone to call Cas again.

“Hello, Dean,” Cas picks up, thankfully.

“Cas. Hey, are you okay? We tried to track you down, but you were gone. We ran into a bunch of demons. What’s happening?”

“I’m sorry. I’m fine. I tried to call and warn you but couldn’t get a signal.”

“Okay, well, what’s going on?”

“I’m following a very interesting lead. I’ll fill you in when I know more,” Cas says, then hangs up.

Dean stares at his phone. That’s _all _Cas felt the need to tell him? Dean would sure like to be filled in on this so called interesting lead. For fuck’s sake.

They unsuccessfully try to find a tracking spell they can use for Jack and find themselves getting tangled in some weird ass heist. It gives Dean a little thrill, but he’d be even more thrilled if Cas would pick up the phone. He hasn’t talked to Cas since that phone call. Cas just tells him he doesn’t have good enough signal to call Dean and appeases him with texts instead. Dean learns that Sam’s been getting more and longer texts than he has, and Dean’s just a bit upset. What the hell, Cas? _How many times can one guy get cold feet on a relationship? _Dean wonders, but at least Cas is back. He guesses he can grant the guy a little space. It probably is suffocating to come back from the solitude of death just to get bombarded with all the shit that gets thrown their way.

They get wind of a string of deaths with the eyes burned out. Could be a rogue angel… or it could be Jack. They go to check it out. The trail leads them to a rehab facility, and they find Jack clutching at some girl’s arm. They shout his name, and he lets the girl go. She runs away while he watches in distress. “I need her!”

“You need her like you needed Derek?” Sam asks, talking about one of the people they had found with their eyes burned out.

“Yes!”

Dean exchanges a worried look with Sam. Jack sees and says, “I’m doing this for you!”

“Oh, you killed Derek for us?” Dean asks in disgust.

Jack looks genuinely confused when he asks, “Derek’s dead?”

He explains that he hadn’t killed Derek, that he needed him because he was a dream walker, just like this girl, Kaia. Derek hadn’t been strong enough to get him a solid view of the apocalypse world, just a glimpse, so he pointed Jack in the direction of Kaia.

“Your mother’s alive,” Jack says.

“What?”

Dean doesn’t have too long to dwell on the fact that Sam had been right this whole time, that they should have been looking for their mom, because angel radio comes over Jack’s band width and tells him the angels have captured Kaia.

Dean blows a breath through his nose in frustration. At least now he can be more relieved than upset at the fact that Cas isn’t with him. He doesn’t need to be any more tangled up with the winged ass hats than he already is.

They rescue Kaia, and she’s not even grateful. Dean tries to insist she should help them because they just saved her life.

“Thanks, but they only wanted me because of you,” she replies, and she has a point, but this is for his mom, and Dean’s already let her down enough, and he needs to do something after thinking she was dead for the past months, and—

Dean pulls out his gun and cocks it. “Get in the car,” he demands, pointing it in Kaia’s direction.

He can hear Sam vaguely protesting, but he can’t focus on that right now. He needs to make things right, however he can.

She gets in the Impala, and everyone sits in terse silence as they drive to the Wind Caves in South Dakota where the borders between worlds are the thinnest. They’re assaulted by angels before they quite make it, so they have to improvise. That improvisation leads to Dean and Sam in an unfamiliar place that doesn’t seem like it’s the Apocalypse World. Dean scuffs his boot along the ground and heaves a sigh. Great.

They wander aimlessly, searching for a door that they’re not even sure exists. Dean prays to Cas, but he’s pretty sure Cas’s powers don’t extend to receiving prayers from alternate worlds. He idly wonders if there’s a Castiel here receiving them who’s supremely confused.

Dean stops for a second to get rid of something stuck to the bottom of his boot. He’s just gotten it off when he hears a leaf crunching. He sees Sam looking around, too, so it’s not just in his imagination. “What was that?”

A cloaked figure comes tumbling out of the woods, right at them, holding a wicked looking spear. It hits Dean with the shaft, and he falls to the ground, unconscious.

When he wakes up, his neck is stiff. He straightens it with a groan. He’s tied to a tree, and the rough bark digs into his back. He starts working on the knots binding him, but the hooded person makes a reappearance. It bangs on some huge skull with its spear and walks away. Dean and Sam share a look when they notice the skulls littered on the ground and a roar in the distance. Dean’s struggling more and more violently with the knot behind his back, but, _damn it, _he’s not as flexible as he used to be. His bonds become slack, and Claire comes into his view. “My hero,” he grins, but fuck, what’s Claire doing here? And why is Kaia with her?

It’s a race to the seam Claire and Kaia came from. They run towards it, and when it’s finally in view, Dean hears a whizzing by his ear. He jerks his head around, looking for the source, and he sees the spear from earlier hurtling straight to Claire. Dean watches helplessly, but Kaia jumps in front of her. Kaia collapses, and Claire kneels down beside her. Claire takes her hand in hers, but Dean sees Kaia’s hand fall limply to the ground. Dean’s heart aches for Claire, and he feels terrible for bringing Kaia into this. A roaring shakes Dean to action, and apparently, Claire, too, because she charges at the figure that killed Kaia. “No, Claire, come on, we’ve got to go!” he shouts, running up to her and wrapping an arm around her middle. He drags her back to the portal, her struggling against him the whole way.

He touches the flickering light, and then he’s back in his world. Claire sags against him, sinking to the floor. Jody comes running into the room at the sound of Claire, and brightens, but sobers when she sees Kaia’s not with them. She purses her lips as Donna, Patience, and Alex round the corner. Dean shakes his head sadly. Kaia is gone, and Jack is in Apocalypse World by himself.

Back at Jody’s house, Dean tries to talk to Claire, but she shuts him down. Later, he climbs the steps and knocks on her bedroom door. There’s no answer, so he takes that as an invitation. He sits down beside her, the bed dipping under his weight. She turns away from him. The temptation to tell Claire that she’ll be okay, that she only knew Kaia for like two minutes, is strong, but Dean’s self aware enough to know how much of a dick move that’d be. He guesses some people don’t take years of circling around each other to realize how much they care.

“Listen, Claire, I know what it’s like to lose someone,” Dean says softly.

“Not like this.”

Dean shoots her a wry smile from where she’s looking at him from under her hair. “I’m pretty sure I do, kiddo.”

Claire starts sniffling again, and Dean opens his arms. She falls into them, sobbing against his shoulder. Dean pets her hair. “It’s going to be all right, I promise.”

“How did you get through this?”

Dean laughs. “Terribly. Take care of yourself, okay? Let Jody help you. She’s pretty good at it. And I’m here for whatever, even if it’s just to talk. Like I said, I get it.”

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a talker,” Claire mumbles with a feeble smile.

“I’ll make an exception for you.” He pulls back to look Claire in the eyes. “You’re going to be okay.”

Over the next few days, Sam seems to take Dean’s place as resident moper. Dean supposes he was holding it together while Dean was grieving about Cas, but now that Cas is back, Sam feels he has full license to sulk around. Dean bangs on his bed room door at eight am, a full hour past when Sam usually gets up, but Sam doesn’t emerge until ten. Dean really doesn’t need this to worry about on top of whatever the hell Cas is up to, but he guesses he’ll let it fly for a few days. Dean knows sometimes you just need a few days to bitch and moan and feel sorry for yourself before getting back in the saddle.

It’s after he’s watched Sam almost die, and he’s had a love spell put on him that he tries to call Cas again. Really, he just wants to hear from the person he doesn’t have to be bewitched into loving.

Surprisingly, Cas answers.

“Hello, Dean.”

“Hey, Cas. What’s up? Haven’t heard from you in a while. When are you going to be home?”

“Uh, you know, I’m still following that lead. It could be a while.”

“I miss you,” Dean whines, “You know I don’t sleep as well when you’re not here. Do you really want it on your conscious when I get hurt because I fall asleep in the middle of a case?”

“Of course not, but, regardless, I have to follow up on this. I’m sorry.”

“Do you want to know what would make me feel better?” Dean wheedles.

“What?”

“What are you wearing?” he asks, and it sounds like Cas chokes.

“Um. My trench coat.”

Dean sits back and arranges himself, so he’s comfortably propped up on his pillows. “Why don’t you take that off, hmm?”

He doesn’t hear a rustling of fabric, so he complains, “Come on, Cas, give me something here. I miss your stupid face, so either do this or just come the fuck home and let me help you with your lead.”

There’s a heavy sigh from the other side of the line, and then Dean hears the sound of clothing sliding to the floor. He grins.

The next morning, he wakes up to his door creaking open slowly. Dean blindly fumbles for his gun and points it in the direction of the door. “It’s just me, Dean,” Cas’s voice says.

“I thought you weren’t coming home for a while.” Dean frowns, but it’s not like he’s not happy Cas is back, so he climbs out of bed and gets dressed.

Cas moves into the room. “I, uh, I’ve been in hell the past few weeks. Asmodeus captured me.”

Dean stops pulling on his pants. “What?”

Cas sighs. “Sam should probably hear about this, too.”

They sit down around the table. Dean leans back and crosses his arms. “Let me get this straight: you were kidnapped, weeks ago, locked up. Cas, I just talked to you on the phone.”

“No. No, Asmodeus had my phone. You’ve been talking to him.”

Dean almost chokes on his own spit.

“What did he want with you?” Sam asks.

“Well, he must have wanted Lucifer. I just happened to be in proximity.”

“No. No, Lucifer? We slammed his ass back to Apocalypse world. How did—”

“The apocalypse world version of Kevin Tran opened the rift using Lucifer’s grace. That world’s Michael wants to use the spell to invade and conquer our world. That’s why I met with Lucifer.”

Dean looks at him, dumbstruck. “Cas, I specifically told you not to do anything stupid.”

Cas shrugs. “He was weak. Asmodeus showed up before we could finish our conversation, though.”

“He say anything about our mom?” Sam asks.

“Kevin Tran,” Cas answers. “Well, the Apocalypse World version. He managed to open a rift using Lucifer’s grace.”

“They have an angel tablet?” Sam asks in disbelief.

“Yes, and Apocalypse World Michael wants to use the spell to invade and conquer our world. That’s why I met with Lucifer.”

“So, you met—Cas, I specifically told you not to do anything stupid,” Dean says in defeat.

“Well, he was weak and given the context of our imminent annihilation it didn’t seem stupid. Lucifer wanted to help fight Michael.”

“Oh, yeah, Lucifer wanted to help, sure. He say anything about our mom?”

“She’s alive. That’s all I know. I’m sorry.”

They hatch a plan to try to use the spell that Michael used, so they can go get their mom. They don’t have the angel tablet, but they do have the demon tablet, and that’s still from God, right? Maybe it’s referenced in there, and hopefully since Cas said Lucifer was weak, their angel cuffs will work on him. They call Donatello to translate the tablet, and he says he’s not too far away. Dean goes to get the tablet for him, and then he waits. He clears his throat. “Cas, I’m sorry. All that time with Asmodeus, I should have known it wasn’t you.”

“He’s a shapeshifter. Besides, I was the one who got myself captured.”

Dean frowns. “Yeah, but if Sam and I knew, we would have—”

“Yes, I know, you would have tried another long shot. I’m fine, Dean.”

Dean can’t believe he didn’t realize he was talking to Asmodeus instead of Cas. Fuck, he’s the worst boyfriend ever.

After Donatello arrives, they leave him with the tablet and go off to find Lucifer. Cas heard about dead vessels on angel radio, so they figure that’s the logical place to start looking.

They manage to get a lead on Lucifer and the last angel he went after, Anael. They find her and use her help to pinpoint Lucifer’s location. Dean’s staring Lucifer in the face when Anael attacks Sam, and both her and Lucifer disappear right as Ketch sprints onto the scene with demon bombs. Dean makes a face. “Congratulations, you just helped Lucifer escape.”

Ketch returns the look. “Put another way, I opted out of my own escape and put myself in harm’s way to save your lives. Again. I found the demon bomb in your weapons cache, and I thought with Lucifer’s weakened state it might make a dent.”

“Well, it seems his weakened state was greatly exaggerated,” Cas gripes.

“Clearly, Lucifer is more dangerous than we thought. I propose we pool resources and go after him together.”

“Why would we ever trust you?” Sam asks incredulously.

“Fine, as proof of my sincerity, I shall come clean. I’m working for Asmodeus. Happy?”

Dean’s stomach turns at the mention of Asmodeus. “What? How is that supposed to make us feel better?”

“It’s not. It’s supposed to present an opportunity. If I’m working for him, then I can pass on information to you.”

“Oh, right. And you would do that for us?” Cas asks sarcastically.

“For everyone. I know you think I’m a monster, but even I must draw the line somewhere. And letting Lucifer free upon the earth? Well, as it turns out, that’s my line. Not to mention the whole Michael situation… All I ask is that you wait to murder me until after I prove useful. Hmm?”

Dean rolls his eyes.

Back at the bunker, Cas tugs Dean to their room and shuts the door behind them. Cas smiles up at him, tugging at the collar of Dean’s shirt. Dean averts his eyes, but Cas drags his chin back down and plants a short kiss on Dean’s lips. “Cas,” Dean starts.

Cas sighs as he starts unbuttoning Dean’s shirt. “You didn’t know.”

“Exactly! I should have! This is the second fucking time, Cas! I can’t even tell my own boyfriend apart from a damn demon?”

Cas’s fingers still. “Boyfriend?”

That takes the wind out of Dean’s sails, and he blushes. “Yeah? I mean, are we not?”

“I like it,” Cas smiles and leans forward, his hot breath ghosting against Dean’s throat. “Want to show me what you told Asmodeus? It sounded—intriguing,” Cas smirks, and maybe Dean’s still upset with himself, but he can feel some of the weight on his shoulders evaporating.

He sticks a tongue out at Cas, but he does just that.

The next morning, Donatello comes forward with the surprising news that he is done translating the spell to open the rift. Dean raises his eyebrows. It took Kevin a lot longer than that to get any translating done, but he guesses Donatello is a professor or something.

The new spell doesn’t include archangel grace, but it does require the hearts of Gog and Magog. Dean and Sam share twin looks of confusion, but Cas has heard of them before.

“The tablet has very specific instructions on how to free them,” Donatello says.

“Then I’ll do it,” Cas says.

Dean shoots him a _look_. “I’ll go with you.”

They face down Gog and Magog, but when Dean stabs one of them in the chest, sand pours out. He looks at Cas. Cas kneels down and lets the sand sift through his fingers. “They don’t have hearts.”

Dean frowns. “What the hell does that mean?”

Cas straightens back up. “Dean, I don’t think we can eliminate the possibility of foul play on Donatello’s part here.”

“Why would he do that, though? What does he have to gain except pissed off Winchesters on his ass?”

Cas grimaces as he admits he doesn’t know.

Dean scuffs his boots in the grass and takes a deep breath. “Fuck,” he says as he pulls out his phone to call Sam.

It goes almost straight to voicemail, and he curses again.

They rush back to the bunker to find Sam holding an ice pack to his head. Sam says Donatello attacked him, but he’s locked in the dungeon now. Dean storms down to talk to him, but Donatello seems a little off the rails. It doesn’t seem like the demon tablet was kind to him, and now he apparently knows some magic, because he cuts off Dean’s airway with a whispered word and a flick of his hand. Dean clutches at his throat and gasps for breath. Black spots are dancing at the edge of his vision when Cas appears. Dean thinks he might be hallucinating things, but Cas glares at Donatello, and Dean can breathe again. He massages his throat. Cas squeezes his bicep. “Are you okay?” he asks softly.

Dean darts a glance at Sam and pulls away. “I’m fine,” he says hoarsely.

They’re trying to work out the logistics of Donatello going dark side when Cas learns Donatello’s soul was gone. Cas’s hands come to a halt flipping through Donatello’s notes. “What?”

“Is that bad?”

“Yes, that’s bad! Theoretically, the human soul would act as a filter inoculating the prophet against whatever darkness is in the tablet.”

“Alright. Um, well, how do we fix him?”

“I don’t think we do. Perhaps the kindest thing to do would be to end his suffering.”

Dean gapes at Cas. “What?” Sam asks.

“I don’t like it either, but if Donatello’s life ends, then another prophet comes into being, and they can finish the translation.”

“So what, you just want to kill him?” Dean asks, just to get that completely straight. He can’t believe what he’s hearing.

Cas starts to walk down the hall, back to Donatello. “Cas, hey!” Dean shouts.

Dean and Sam rush after him, but Cas locks himself in with Donatello. Dean bangs his fist against the dungeon door, but it’s solid iron and doesn’t budge. Blood vessels have burst in Dean’s hand before he hears Donatello’s shrieks carry out into the hall. “Damn it, Cas!”

Finally, the door creaks open and Cas emerges. “Cas?” Dean asks, because he has to make sure Cas didn’t mess himself up doing whatever he just did.

Cas just shakes his head. “Well, I know what we have to do.”

Dean gapes at him as Cas brushes past him, and he sees Donatello with his head slumped down. Dean grits his teeth and goes in to check for a pulse. He feels a faint thud, and he motions to Sam to help him get Donatello out to Baby.

By the time they get home from the hospital where they left Donatello with tubes coming out of him every which way, Dean’s had plenty of time to stew.

“Well?” Cas asks as they walk through the door.

They tell Cas what happened, but Dean can’t help himself from adding, “What’s wrong with you?”

Dean can’t believe Cas would have that little regard for human life, but Cas confirms it when he defends himself. “If I hadn’t acted, we would still be sitting around and wasting time, and it’s time we don’t have. I told you, war is coming, and I did what soldiers do. We needed the spell to open the rift, and I pulled it from Donatello’s mind. I got our four major ingredients. We find those things, we can bring everybody home, and together we can beat Lucifer and Michael. This is the only way we win, and this the only way we survive. Like you said, Dean, whatever it takes.”

Cas’s words echo in Dean’s head as Dean stretches out across his cold bed that night.

The next morning, a soft knock sounds on Dean’s door. He figures it’s Sam checking up on him, so he gives a grunt of approval. Cas swings open the door, holding a plate with pancakes on it. Dean takes in the sight and rolls back over. He hears Cas give a heavy sigh, and then he feels Cas’s weight settle on his bed. “I’m going to Syria,” Cas says, which is the last thing Dean expected.

Dean turns to face him. “What?”

“For the spell, we need fruit from the tree of life. It’s in Syria,” Cas explains.

“And you’re leaving now?” Dean asks incredulously.

“We don’t have time to waste. That’s what I’ve been trying to say all along!” Cas says, raising his voice just a little.

Dean shrinks back. That tone of voice is rarely addressed at him. Cas smooths a hand along Dean’s blanket covered leg. “I’m sorry. I just—I’ve grown fond of this world, and I don’t want Lucifer and Michael to destroy it.”

Cas runs his other hand through his hair, making it even messier than usual. “It’s not fair,” he says in frustration, “We’ve already averted this once, and now we have to do it again?”

Dean swallows. He’s still mad, but he can’t let Cas run off with bad blood between them. He’s had enough of that. “Do you even have a passport?” he asks in lieu of anything else running through his mind.

Cas snorts. “I’m going to be fine,” he says.

“I don’t know, man, planes are pretty freaky,” he says, but that’s all he allows himself. He thought they were way past the days where he had to lecture Cas about the importance of human life.

Cas rubs a finger back and forth over Dean’s cheekbone, and Dean gives him a melancholy smile. He wonders if shit will ever stop hitting the fan when it comes to him and Cas.

So maybe it shows that Dean is still a little mad at Cas when he flirts with that waitress, but he has to say, he is grateful that Sam interrupted him before he did anything else. Even if he acted annoyed at Sam, he never wants to be _that_ guy, especially to Cas.

When they get sucked into Scooby Doo land, though, he totally does mean to be that guy. Daphne was one of his first childhood crushes, and he’s sure if Cas wanted to flirt with some angel he knew as a fledgling, Dean would be okay with it. Nevertheless, he’s still pleased when Daphne exclaims, “Dean had the ghost by the thigh!” and Cas responds with an incredulous, “He what?”

Dean can’t deny he’s relieved Cas actually cares. Maybe he wouldn’t be as cool with Cas flirting with childhood crushes as he thought he would. As he admires cartoon Cas’s jawline, he offhandedly wonders what it would be like to have sex here. It seems like it might be kind of sacrilegious to his childhood, though. Dean pushes the thought to the back of his mind.

When they emerge from cartoon land, Dean proclaims, “That was the coolest thing that’s ever happened to me. And that includes the Cartwright twins!”

Cas squints. “What did you do with the Cartwright twins?”

Dean throws him a lecherous wink when Sam turns away.

Later that night, Cas slinks into his room. Dean would have been disappointed if Cas hadn’t come, and he drags him into his room, shutting the door behind them. He tries to keep it down, but he’s not sure they have much luck. Fortunately, Sam’s a heavy sleeper.

The next morning, Cas wakes Dean up with a sloppy blow job. Dean gropes under the sheets to try and get a hand on Cas’s cock and return the favor, but Cas catches his hand. “I have to leave soon.”

“Why? You just got back,” Dean complains, laving a kiss on Cas’s neck.

Cas squirms away from him and gets up, throwing the covers off of both of them. “I need to find Lucifer, so we can get archangel grace for the spell.”

Dean sighs and gets up with him. They get dressed, and Dean walks Cas to the door. Dean gives a glance to Sam who’s asleep face down on the war room table. Dean tugs Cas into a salacious good bye kiss.

“Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid,” Dean says, brushing a final kiss against Cas’s cheek.

Cas squints at him. “I won’t do anything you wouldn’t do.”

“Dude, that does not make me feel any better.”

Cas gives him a smug smile and another quick kiss before he walks out, closing the door behind him. Dean looks back at Sam, who looks like he never even stirred throughout their whole exchange. Dean grins to himself at the opportunity and goes to find some post it notes.

He’s just smoothing another post it on Sam’s back when Sam starts to stir. Dean leaps back, trying to look casual as he slides into a chair next to Sam. “Whatcha reading?” he asks innocently.

“Well, I finally found something on the Seal of Solomon, but it’s really weird,” Sam says, talking about another ingredient for the spell.

Dean’s had just about enough of this quest for spell ingredients, especially when it means Cas is gone all the damn time, but he dutifully trudges to the library to bring back more books that could reference the seal.

He finally finds something in a handwritten journal. To his surprise, the Men of Letters found whatever Solomon was protecting with his seal and it’s one of their chapter houses. Or, thinking about everything he knows about the Men of the Letters, it’s not all that shocking. The pompous bastards could never just mind their own business, but at least in this case it works out in his favor.

They head to the chapter house.

They find the seal, but Sam wasn’t exaggerating when he said it was weird. Dean shudders at the memory.

Dean: _You know how was I asking if you could muster up some kinky tentacle shit? Yeah, scratch that. _

Cass: C_an’t say I’m too disappointed by this turn of events. I will never understand some of the things you enjoy_

Dean: _yeah, but you love me anyway_

Cass: _You know I do_

They make it back to the bunker, Dean still floating on a cloud from Cas’s message, but the dopey smile drops from his face when Ketch is there. Dean reaches into his waistband and pulls out his gun to train on Ketch. He still doesn’t trust the guy farther than he can throw him, and Dean’s never been a track and field sort of guy. “I brought you a gift,” Ketch says.

Dean scoffs until Ketch pulls _Gabriel _into view. “No, no, that’s impossible,” Sam says, “We saw him die.”

“What’d you do to him?” Dean manages to get out.

Gabriel is looking particularly gruesome, uneven stitching keeping his mouth shut. “Not me,” Ketch says, “Asmodeus. He was holding him prisoner until I liberated the poor man, and I understand you may need an archangel for a spell, perhaps. What luck.”

Ketch pulls a glowing vial and a dagger out of his jacket. “Here, take that and the archangel blade.”

Sam looks at him in suspicion. “What’s the catch?”

“Protection from Asmodeus. I imagine when he finds out I stole his prize milk cow, he’ll hunt me to the ends of the earth. So, this is the only safe place I know.”

“No,” Sam says, crossing his arms, at the same time Dean says, “Deal.”

Sam looks at him incredulously. “I don’t know what the hell’s going on here, but if this helps us get Mom back, get Jack back, then sure.” Dean shrugs.

Dean goes to his room and starts gathering together a bag. They have all the ingredients they need for the spell, now. He knows Cas is going to be pissed at him for leaving without him, but Cas doesn’t need dragged into this mess. There’s already two people stuck over there that he cares about, he doesn’t want to add anymore people to that list.

Sam tries to fight with Dean about going, but Dean stands firm that he’ll go alone. “Somebody’s gotta stay here just in case,” he says.

“I’m coming with you,” Ketch says, walking into the room with a bag of his own. “As I said, Asmodeus will be hunting to the ends of the earth, so it’s better if I’m not on this earth.”

“Fine.”

“Fine? You want Ketch to go and not me?” Sam turns to him in disbelief.

“I don’t care if he dies. Hell, I’m kind of rooting for it. If something happens, if time runs out, then I need you to come save me, come save Mom and whoever else, okay? I know you don’t like this. I don’t expect you to, but this is the way it’s going to be.”

They perform the ritual, Dean keeping an eye on the door of the library because he half expects Cas to come bursting in at some point, but the spell proceeds uneventfully.

Dean reaches out to the rift.

Dean tumbles out of the rift in an unfamiliar spot, snow crunching underneath his boots. He and Ketch trudge along for a bit until Dean feels the ground shaking minutely. He flattens himself to the ground and motions for Ketch to do the same. Dean groans to himself when he realizes they’ve stumbled on a platoon of soldiers.

“For high crimes of fomenting rebellion against the archangel Michael, these humans shall be executed,” their commander booms, and Dean shakes his head. “Freaking angels.”

The soldiers remove hoods from their captives, and Dean stares on in shock as he sees Charlie. The last time he saw Charlie she was covered in her own blood, and now here is this world’s version of her, about to die in front of him again. “I know you. You’re not the usual human scum. You’re with the resistance, the inner circle. You’ve met the nephilim and the other worlder, Mary. Michael will want her at the Northern Camp for interrogation,” the commander says, and Dean lets out a breath.

The group begins to move again, and Dean scrambles up to follow them. Ketch follows reluctantly.

They’re walking along, Ketch rolling his eyes at the audibility of Dean walking in the snow, when someone steps out from behind a tree and shoots Dean in the arm. Dean clutches at his shoulder, trying to grasp his gun with his other hand, but the man advances towards him and pulls out rope to restrain Dean’s arms against his back. “Oh, you’re a strong one! Angels will pay double for you. Most of the slaves are a mite scrawny,” the man growls.

Dean struggles, but his shoulder is on fire and flecks of black are edging in on his vision. Ketch appears out of nowhere and tackles the man to ground. “Where were you going to take him?” Ketch demands.

“You think I’m going to tell you?”

Dean takes perverse pleasure in shooting the man in the leg. The man screams in pain and gives them directions. Dean knocks him unconscious, but instantly winces, hand clapping back up to his shoulder.

They keep trudging along until Ketch stops him, saying “You don’t look good.”

“Yeah, well you’re not my type, either. I’m fine,” Dean replies through gritted teeth.

“We’ll take a break. Your wound may be more serious than we thought,” Ketch decides.

“He barely hit me. We don’t have time for this,” Dean protests, even though a break sounds lovely.

Ketch throws his hands up. “By all means. What was it with you and this Charlie, anyway? Old girlfriend? Let me guess, she broke your heart.”

Dean squints ahead, the path swimming out of focus. His legs give out from underneath him, and his face is in the cool snow.

Ketch rushes to him. “Dean, oh God, you’re burning up. Let’s take a look at that wound.”

“No, I’m fine. We have to keep moving,” Dean says weakly.

“Do shut up,” Ketch says as he pulls at Dean’s shirt to look at his shoulder.

Ketch sucks a breath in through his teeth and brings up a hand to prod at the wound. Dean looks down and immediately looks away. It’s a veiny looking thing, webbing down his chest, and it reminds him unpleasantly of Cas in that barn. Ketch pulls his hand away, apparently satisfied and starts rummaging through his bag. “What’s the prognosis, doc?” Dean asks, but Ketch ignores him, grinding something together with a rock now.

“My guess is that the bounty hunter used a toxin to coat his bullets with to hobble his prey at first. If the antidote isn’t administered, then the victim dies a particularly gruesome death,” he finally says.

“Now, this will smart.” Ketch walks towards Dean with his paste and begins to smear it on the wound.

Dean grunts, but determinedly doesn’t squirm away from the sting. “There we are. Good lad, good lad,” Ketch says.

Dean stumbles to his feet and insists they keep going. Ketch rolls his eyes, but gives in until Dean walks right into a rock and stops, leaning on it for support. “This is absurd. You must rest.”

“Look, I’ll give you that anti poison merit badge award, okay? I appreciate, but we’re running out of time, so I’m going to keep going,” Dean says, and then collapses on the ground. “In five minutes,” he concedes.

“Good plan. Perhaps we can use this moment to revisit the Charlie issue.”

Dean grunts in displeasure but gives in. It hurts to revisit it, just how much he let Charlie down, but he lets the words tumble out to Ketch. “She was like a sister to me,” he says, “What about your story you’re not telling me?”

“Oh, I’ve had many failures— friends and colleagues who have died on my watch. Only difference is, I didn’t try to save them. Duty and all that rubbish.”

“Wow, you do suck.”

“What the hell,” Ketch says, getting to his feet, “Perhaps rescuing this Charlie will wash some of the stain off of my hands.”

Ketch reaches a hand out to Dean to help him to his feet. Dean takes it, saying, “Impossible and stupid, huh? You say it like it’s a bad thing. Come on.”

He flashes a cocky grin at Ketch, so maybe he shouldn’t be surprised when Ketch reaches out to catch his arm and pulls Dean to him. He’s taking a step forward, eyes latched on Dean’s lips, but Dean pushes him away. “What the hell, man? First of all, I have a boyfriend,” Dean says, feeling a thrill at the word, “and second of all, you banged my mom! You looking for the matched set?”

“Apologies. I thought there was something there. My mistake,” Ketch shrugs, looking chastised but not all that bothered, like he goes around trying to kiss random dudes a lot.

Dean rolls his eyes. How much of a damn vibe does he give off? “I know I’m hard to resist, but don’t let it happen again. Let’s go.”

“So you and the angel, hmm? How exactly does that work?”

Dean glares at him, and Ketch holds up his hands. “I’m simply trying to pass the time!”

They burst into the angel’s camp, somehow managing to get Charlie out of there without being kabobbed, and they make it back to the rift, explaining what’s going on to Charlie along the way.

Dean looks at the sputtering rift. “Okay, this thing’s going to be closed any minute. We gotta go.”

“Dean, you need to go through. Bring back Sam and your angel and Gabriel and the bloody Navy SEALS, whatever help you can. But I should stay. If we’re going up against Michael, we need to be ready. WE need to know what he’s up to, where your mother and Jack are.”

“I’m staying, too,” Charlie says.

“What? You got Michael and like a billion angels on your ass.”

“Dude, this is my home. If you really do have a way to take down Michael, get back here and do it. Until then, this is my fight.”

“Dean, it’s closing,” Ketch says, gesturing at the rift.

Dean takes a breath and steps through.

Back in the bunker, Dean falls to the ground. Sam rushes forward, Cas by his side. “Dean! Hey, you’re hurt.”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Where’s Mom? Where’s Jack?” Sam asks as the rift fades away.

“Long story,” Dean says, trailing off as he takes in the disheveled bunker all around him. “What’d I miss?”

Cas steps forward. “There was a demon incursion, led by Asmodeus.”

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Asmodeus got in here?” he asks. He left Sam and Cas here to be safe, for fuck’s sake.

“Yeah, and Gabriel killed him,” Sam says.

“Gabriel? That’s great. So, he’s back. Where is he?”

“He just left,” Cas says.

“What do you mean, he left?”

“We asked Gabriel to help us, and he said no.”

“He doesn’t get to say no. We still have his grace, though, right? Sam?”

In a small voice, Sam says, “We used his grace to heal him, so it’s gone.”

Dean blinks. “So if it’s gone, then that means we can’t open that door again. If we can’t open the door, then I should’ve never come back!” Dean yells, swiping his hands across the table in front of him and sending things shattering on the ground. Cas won’t meet his eyes, but Dean can’t bring himself to care right now. “Son of a bitch! Every time! Every time we get close, it always falls apart. Every freaking time.”

“Dean, we will find Gabriel. We will,” Cas says reassuringly.

“We better,” Dean says darkly.

Cas looks like he wants to step forward when Dean clutches at his throbbing shoulder again, but he keeps his distance.

Cas doesn’t even make an appearance in their bed that night. Dean tosses and turns for an hour before going to find him. He finds Cas in his own den, knitting while staring blankly at the tv where John Wayne is shooting someone. Dean steps forward to shut it off. “Come on, man, John Wayne always deserves your full attention.”

“But I’m not worthy of yours?” Cas spits.

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that you found it pertinent to text me about tentacle porn, but not that you made the rift and were going through it? And that you said you should’ve just stayed over there? What the hell does that even mean, Dean?”

“Look. I’m sorry. But Mom and Jack are over there, and I just keep failing them, over and over again. I fucking fail everyone. And I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, but I didn’t need you rushing back here and insisting on going with me, okay? I couldn’t take that chance.”

“And you think you get to make that decision for me?” Cas snarls, getting up from the couch and moving into Dean’s space.

“I know you’re a badass, but you died. You died and you left me here without you. I can’t do that again, not ever,” Dean says, his voice breaking.

“Dean, we’ve already talked about this. How do you think I’d feel if I lost you?” Cas asks.

Dean shrugs.

“Dean Winchester, you’re infuriating,” Cas says with an eye roll before pulling Dean in for a fierce kiss.

When Cas pulls away, Dean asks in a small voice, “Will you come to my room? I can’t sleep without you.”

“Only if you promise to stop doing stupid shit without letting me know.”

Dean laughs but doesn’t reply, just tugs Cas through the bunker’s hallways by the hand. He doesn’t know if that’s a promise he can keep. Cas notices his shoulder and insists on healing it. Dean lets him.

The next morning, Cas follows Dean to the kitchen. They’re sitting at the table, Cas stealing sips of Dean’s coffee and brainstorming ideas to track down Gabriel.

“You know what? Forget Rowena. There’s gotta be some other way to track him,” Dean says after they’ve gone back and forth on the topic for twenty minutes. “I need a real drink. I’m going to get a beer. You want a beer?”

“No,” Cas says, hand on his chin in deep thought.

“I’ll get beer.”

“The angels,” Cas says suddenly.

“What?”

“Maybe heaven can help us,” Cas says, and if this is his million dollar idea, Dean despairs for ever finding Gabriel.

“Not for nothing, but don’t the angels mostly want to kill you?”

“Yes, this would be something of a Hail Mary.”

Dean hums thoughtfully, but he doesn’t like the idea of Cas meeting back up with the rest of the winged dicks.

Cas takes his silence as confusion. “It’s a sports term, like slam dunk or ball handler,” Cas explains, Dean fighting to keep a straight face.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a good idea.”

“Well, we don’t have any good ideas,” Cas points out.

“Okay, let’s just not barrel through this like a Donatello thing,” Dean says.

“I hear your concerns, and yes, the angels loathe me, and there’s going to be dangers, but heaven doesn’t want the world to end any more than we do.”

Dean snorts because Cas said that like he thought it was going to make Dean feel better, and then Sam comes in with news that sounds like Rowena going rogue. They should probably go deal with that, so Dean relents. “Cas, you want to try this angel thing, then go for it. Just don’t get dead again.”

Cas gives him a lingering look and finds Dean before he leaves. “I’m going to be fine,” he promises.

“You better,” Dean says before he’s launching himself to Cas to catch his lips and cling to him. “I mean it.”

Cas runs a soothing hand down Dean’s back. “I’ll see you soon, okay? I love you.”

Dean swallows. “I love you, too.”

It turns out Rowena was killing people to try to get Death’s attention to bring back Crowley. Dean turns away guiltily, very aware that Crowley died for them. Billie shows up and manages to reason with Rowena.

After it’s all over, and they’re just sitting there looking at each other, Sam breaches the topic. “We may need your help to save our family, hell, to save the world.”

“You wanna be redeemed, this would be a pretty big step,” Dean adds helpfully.

Rowena heaves a sigh when they tell her Lucifer is back, but she agrees to help. They gather up ingredients for her, and she does a tracking spell for Gabriel.

They’re pulling into a motel where Rowena said she had “tracked Gabriel’s essence to” when Dean calls Cas. “So how was heaven? They going to solve all our problems?”

“I said it was a long shot.”

“No dice, then? Hey, it’s okay. I’m glad you’re okay,” Dean says, eyes darting to his rearview where he can see Sam unloading their bags from the trunk.

“Heaven is very weak. Naomi says it’s sputtering out because of the lack of angels,” Cas says, and Dean can hear the guilt in his tone.

“Hey, hey, it’s not your fault.”

Cas sighs. “It definitely is. Dean, I massacred so many. I appreciate the sentiment, though.”

“Cas,” Dean sighs, but Sam is coming back from the motel desk, so Dean gets out of the car, and Sam motions him to the right room.

“All right, well, we found Rowena and she tracked Gabriel. She pinpointed him to two different spots. We’re in Montana checking one out, and the other place was Amarillo. Can you handle that?”

“I would think so.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’ve told me you can handle yourself. We all know you’re a badass, yuk it up. Just be careful, okay?”

Dean walks through the door to their motel and looks around the place. It looks nicer than usual.

“Are you in Montana already?” Cas asks.

“Yeah. We just got in.”

“I’m wounded you didn’t stop and see me first.”

Dean smiles. “Uh huh.” He sees Sam unpacking his stuff. “What are you doing? Don’t unpack!”

“Dude, we could be here for days,” Sam protests.

“No. No. Hey, hell no,” Dean says vehemently, more than ready to get back to Cas.

“What?” Cas asks over the phone.

“Hey, no, not you. Just call us when you get to Amarillo, all right?” Dean asks, and then he hangs up.

He’s interrupted from testing out the magic fingers when there’s a pounding at the door. He opens it and is dumbfounded to find Gabriel.

After some hemming and hawing, Gabriel agrees to help them with the rift situation if they help him with this little revenge mission he’s in Montana for. Whatever, Dean’s game to gank anything.

They kill the real Loki, and then they head back to the bunker, Gabriel in tow. Dean’s relieved to see Cas waiting for them in the war room when they return, and he sends Cas a soft smile. “Hey, Cas,” Sam says, brushing past them to direct Gabriel farther into the bunker.

Dean walks up behind Cas’s chair and put his hands on Cas’s shoulders. “Whatcha reading?”

“I figured I should read up on alternate universes, prepare myself for when we go over there.”

“We?” Dean raises his eyebrows.

“Yes, _we_,” Cas answers in exasperation, “If you think I’m letting you go over there by yourself, you’re sorely mistaken.”

“Cas,” Dean whines, but Cas’s withering look shuts him up. “Fine. But no risks.”

“I don’t think we lead a life where I can make that promise. No unnecessary risks.”

Dean shakes his head dramatically. “Why do I keep you around, anyway?”

Cas gets out of his chair to give Dean a peck on the lips. “Because you love me,” he singsongs.

“I guess,” Dean sighs exaggeratedly, turning around, and to his horror, seeing Rowena leaning against the doorframe.

“When the fuck did you get here?”

“Last night. No wonder your angel thought I was poor company, if that’s what he expects of all his companions.”

He glares at her, then turns to Cas. “You didn’t think to tell me this?”

Cas gives him a weak shrug, but he’s fighting a grin. “I love you, too?”

“Yeah, yeah, can it, both of you.” Dean tromps off to find Sam and Gabriel.

They perform the spell, but Gabriel’s grace wasn’t exactly plentiful, and it sputters out. Everyone turns to look at each other. “What do we do now?” Sam asks, voicing the question everyone is thinking.

“Hell if I know,” Dean shrugs.

“You do know. We all do. We need archangel grace. Gabriel’s obviously running a little low, and we don’t know how long it will take him to recover, so that leaves exactly one source on Earth.”

Sam and Rowena shake their heads, and Dean can’t blame them. Hell, he doesn’t want to have to screw around with Lucifer, either. He’s had enough of that for one lifetime, thank you very much.

“I don’t like it either, but there is no other way. We need Lucifer.”

“You sure?” Dean asks.

Cas’s face doesn’t look at all that convinced, but he gives a resolute nod. “Let’s go.”

Rowena and Gabriel head off to set a magical trap for Lucifer which leaves Dean with way too much time to worry. “Dean,” Cas says from the couch. Sam already left to gather more supplies from the armory, so it’s just them.

“What?” he asks sourly.

Cas rolls his eyes. “It’s going to be fine. Calm down.”

Dean sputters. “I’m sorry, did you forget the past two years? I sure as hell haven’t! Lucifer has been a pain in my back, and your’s fucking literally, Cas! And now you want to bring him here? Look, I didn’t want to fight in front of Sam, but you realize how insane this is, right?”

“We don’t have another choice if you want your mother and Jack back,” Cas says, and that’s the killing blow. Dean drops next to Cas on the couch.

“You’re right. I’m sorry I’m being like this. I just—I don’t know if I’m ever going to get over you dying, you know?”

Cas rubs soothing fingers in Dean’s hair. “At least we locked Lucifer away for a little bit, right?”

“That was not worth you dying. Jesus Christ, Cas.”

Dean shakes his head and leans against Cas until he hears the bunker door opening. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

They get spit into Apocalypse World in a different place than Dean was last time. He looks around, trying to get his bearings. “We’re in Kentucky,” Cas supplies.

Dean looks to the sun for his compass, and they set off to where Charlie had told him Jack and his mom were.

Everything is going as well as could be expected, even helping out some refugees on their way to the same camp, until suddenly vampires are swarming Sam and Dean can’t breathe. He’s seen Sam is some pretty freaky situations before, but he’s never been so out of control. Dean races to Sam, but a vamp clotheslines him and goes for his throat. Dean struggles, eyes never leaving Sam as he gets more and more overwhelmed. He finally gets free and scrabbles for his machete, but a second vampire is there to block his swing. Dean watches in horror as Sam falls to his knees, and a vamp takes a huge chunk out of his throat. “Sammy!” Dean screams.

Blood is spurting out of Sam’s neck, and Dean watches helplessly from where he’s pinned against the wall. He whimpers pathetically as the puddle of blood grows bigger, too big, and Dean knows they hit the carotid. He stares as Sam’s eyes become glassy and unfocused. This isn’t real; it can’t be happening. The vamp relaxes his grip on Dean, and he’s able to break away, rushing towards where the vamps are dragging Sam away. He swings his machete, beheading any vampire that gets near, even beheading one with his sawed off. Cas has already headed down the tunnel in pursuit of the vamps, and Dean goes to hurry after him, but Cas emerges with a hand to Dean’s chest. “Dean. Dean,” he says, and Dean can read what he’s going to say in the soft tone of voice, in the bedside manner that Cas is so good at when he wants to be, but Dean doesn’t want to admit it.

“What?”

“He’s gone.”

Dean tries to shoulder his way past Cas because at this point never giving up on Sam is practically hard wired into him, but Cas yanks at his jacket. “We don’t have time,” he says, even as Dean’s eyes fill with tears. “We can’t save him.”

Cas looks down, unable to look at him. Dean’s sure he makes quite the picture right now, but he can’t help it. Some fucking low level vamps took out his brother? This was never the way it was supposed to go, but Dean forces himself into some semblance of calm and takes begrudging steps forward. Cas worms his way over to Dean to put a hand on his back, and Dean doesn’t want to show any weakness right now, in front of these people he doesn’t even know, but he’s hurting so damn bad. He slumps into Cas’s touch as more tears prick at his eyes. _What a rescue mission, _he sneers to himself.

Finally, _finally_, they make it to Dayton and find his mom and Jack. Jack’s even more agitated about Sam’s death than Dean will let himself show. “He can’t be dead!” he shouts as he whirls to Cas, to Gabriel. “Couldn’t you bring him back?” The angels stare back helplessly.

Cas keeps his distance from Dean as Dean bangs around the camp, refilling his supplies, and getting ready to go get Sam’s body. Dean can’t say he blames him. He knows he’s not exactly a joy to be around at the best of times, and this is the worst it’s been since Cas died. Fuck, why does everyone keep dying on him? He doesn’t care how many vamps he has to behead, he’s getting Sam’s body so he can get a proper send off. Dean pictures the gathering they had for Asa, thinks of something like that for Sam. It’s only fitting. Sam’s impacted tons of people besides Dean.

Dean zips his duffel shut and starts walking determinedly towards the camp gate, but he’s arrested by the sight of Sam. Dean’s eyes widen until they feel like they’re going to burst out of his head when he sees Lucifer trailing behind Sam. What the actual fuck. “Hello, son,” Lucifer says to Jack, shit eating grin in place.

Dean’s wary. Lucifer, with Sam? How does he know this isn’t some messed up ploy? Lucifer loves to fuck with him, he knows that much. “Sam?” he asks carefully, “What happened?”

Sam doesn’t meet his eyes as he jerks a thumb at Lucifer. “He, uh, he brought me back.”

Even though Sam’s back, the rest of their time in apocalypse world is a fucking mess. He can’t ever seem to escape from Lucifer, Jack decides now is a good time to go through his rebellious phase and wants to know his dad better, and his mom says she can’t leave these people she’s found here, even after everything they’ve been to be here to get her back, so Dean finds himself agreeing to play host to twenty five extra people. Fuck, he can barely take care of himself on a good day. To top it all off, when they finally make it back to the rift with their rag tag group of rebels, Gabriel sacrifices himself to save them from Michael and his group of angels. At least they manage to keep Lucifer in the apocalypse world until the last second, the rift closing while he’s still on the other side. Dean heaves a breath of relief. The apocalypse world Bobby closes a hand on his arm and steers him to the front of the group of rebels. “A toast to our new brothers, Sam and Dean Winchester! Thanks, boys. Welcome to the family," Bobby says, and Dean can almost pretend it’s like old times. Dean surprises himself when he thinks he’s glad it isn’t, catching Cas’s eye from across the room and shooting him a grin.

Dean wanders the halls of the bunker, restless since Cas never made an appearance in his room. He checks the kitchen, the den, the library, the shooting range, and even the showers for Cas, but he’s nowhere to be found. Dean’s about ready to resign himself to the fact that Cas slipped out without saying goodbye, but he as he raps his fingers lightly on Cas’s bedroom door as he passes, he hears a faint, “Come in.”

Dean stops in his tracks, surprised. Cas barely spends any time in this room anymore. He pushes the door open and sees Cas sitting stiffly on the bed, Dean’s journal in hand. It looks considerably more well worn than when Dean saw it last. “Hey,” Dean says, breaking the silence.

Cas looks up at him contemplatively. “What was I like when we met?”

“A dick.”

Cas scowls. “What am I like now?”

Dean moves forward and sinks onto the bed beside Cas. “What’s on your mind?”

Cas just shakes his head and hides his face in Dean’s shirt.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

Cas takes in a shuddering breath that he doesn’t need and says, “I killed myself today.”

“What?” Dean asks, his heart rate spiking at the words. “What do you mean?”

“There was another me, in the apocalypse world.”

Dean calms slightly and tugs Cas into him, laying them both back on the bed.

“That world was what happened if you and Sam were never born. That’s what I would have been if I didn’t have you. Still blindly following orders,” Cas spits.

“Hate to break it to you, but according to Naomi, you’ve always been a pain in the ass, even before you met me.”

Cas snorts. “I suppose he was dragged back for reprograming one too many times.”

Dean frowns. He hates thinking about that, what Cas has been through, all the time that Cas has existed independently of Dean, without anyone there that actually gave a fuck about him. “I’m sorry,” he says into Cas’s hair.

In the morning, Dean wakes up to knocking and a cold bed. “Cas?” his mom’s voice calls, “Can I talk to you about something?”

The door creaks open, and Dean sits up groggily. His mom stares at him from the doorway. Dean blushes as he realizes what this looks like. “Um. Good morning,” she says.

“Morning,” Dean croaks.

“So, uh, anything you want to share with the class?” his mom asks as Dean sits up.

Dean looks down at his chest and realizes Cas left him a hickey on his collarbone, and Dean can vaguely remember it happening at some point during the night. Dean shrugs weakly. Fuck, his mom’s kind of old. Is she homophobic? Dean crosses his arms over his chest defensively, trying to think of a response.

“Are you sleeping with an angel?” his mom asks incredulously, and Dean realizes where he got his tendency to be blunt from.

“You always said they were watching over me,” he says with a grin to cover up his galloping heart.

“Apparently even more closely than I thought. Do you know where Cas is?” she asks.

“Um, no, sorry,” Dean says with a dry mouth.

His mom gives him a dry smile and a lazy salute before walking back out the door.

Dean’s pulse is still hammering, but it could have gone worse.

He finds Cas later in the kitchen, talking to Maggie, one of their refugees, with Jack and his mom. Dean drops into the chair beside him, and Cas looks over and smiles. “There’s eggs and bacon on the stove.”

Dean resists the urge to peck him on the cheek and jumps up to get his breakfast.

The days pass idyllically. He, Sam, Cas, and Jack go on small hunts, decapitating vamps and salting and burning ghosts. He’s almost forgotten what it feels like when the world wasn’t in danger. He soaks it in, reveling in his family’s presence. The fourth time he wants to kiss Cas but can’t because of Sam, or can’t even share a bed, he thinks maybe it’s time to let Sam in on their relationship. After all, his mom knows, and nothing bad has come of that. It’s only fair, Dean reasons. Besides, he and Cas have been incredibly solid since Cas got brought back. They’ve been more or less communicating and not stewing on their problems. Dean doesn’t know how it could get much better than this.

He’s walking through the bunker with Sam, and he thinks of a way that maybe it could.

“Kid did great,” Dean says, talking about Jack.

“Yeah, no kidding.”

“He keeps this up, and…” Dean trails off.

“And what?”

“I don’t know. Hey, you remember when you asked if we could stop it? All the evil in the world?”

“Yeah,” Sam says, squinting at him in confusion.

“Well, maybe with Jack, we can.”

“Maybe you’re right. But then what would we do?”

“Hmm. Yeah. This,” Dean says, shaking the beer bottle he’s holding, “A whole lot of this. But on a beach somewhere, you know? Can you imagine? You, me, Cas, toes in the sand, couple of them little umbrella drinks. Matching Hawaiian shirts, obviously. Some hula girls.”

“You talking about retiring?” Sam scoffs, “You?”

“If I knew the world was safe? Hell, yeah. And you know why? Because we freaking earned it, man.”

Because it’s Dean’s life, the other shoe has to drop sometime. Things start going to shit after they find Maggie dead on the ground outside the bunker.

“I said I’d protect her,” Jack whispers.

They find out that Maggie snuck out last night to a convenience store to see some guy she had a crush on, and Jack immediately disappears. Dean curses and looks up at Cas’s face, pinched with worry. He tries to shoot him a reassuring smile, but he’s not sure it works for either of them.

They go to the store to find Jack, and they find him, all right. They find him flinging the kid into some shelves, his eyes glowing gold. Cas reaches out a hand to Jack’s shoulder, but Jack yanks away, throwing Cas backwards. Jack doesn’t let up on the kid, so Dean reaches into his waistband and pulls out his handgun, squeezing the trigger in Jack’s direction. “You shot me,” Jack says in disbelief, prodding at the hole in his stomach.

“To get your attention. You’re acting like a psycho!”

“He killed Maggie!”

The boy’s eyes widen even more. “Maggie? Maggie’s dead?”

“Jack, listen to me,” Sam says urgently, “Look at him, he didn’t kill Maggie.”

Jack slumps in on himself. “I’m sorry.” He walks towards the door, Cas trailing after him, but Dean grabs his arm. “No, hey, just let him go.”

Cas looks back, ready to snap at him, but he’s arrested by the sight of Maggie’s crush staring at them in shock.

“You shot him.”

“Uh, rubber bullets,” Dean says hastily.

“A training exercise. We’re FBI,” Sam continues, just as the lights start to flicker.

A high pitched noise vibrates the store, reminding Dean of the first time Cas tried to talk to him. His mouth turns dry when he looks up and figures out why. The apocalypse world Michael is standing right there. “Run!” Dean shouts, and they dash out to Baby to find the bottle of holy oil in the trunk.

Dean stuffs a rag in the bottle, and when he turns to see Michael has followed them out, he lights it on fire and throws it at his feet. A circle of fire lights up around Michael’s feet, and they get into Baby and peel away.

“Where’s Jack?” Cas asks as he looks out the back window worriedly.

Dean manages a half shrug, trying to focus on the road and getting them out of there as fast as possible without killing them. “I sure as hell hope he’s back at the bunker with Michael on the loose.”

Dean pounds a frustrated hand on the steering wheel. “Fuck!” He shouts. Sam and Cas look at him in alarm, but he barely registers it.

He can feel his perfect future slipping through his fingers, and he’s trying to cup his hands tighter, but it’s no use. Fuck, if Michael’s back, that could mean…

They burst into the bunker, and Jack isn’t there, but his mom is to confirm his worst fears. Maggie is sitting there, gasping, and they’re informed Lucifer brought her back. Dean paces around the war room, Cas and Sam sinking into chairs to watch him. He wants to scream a litany of fucks, wants to punch something, just wants to not have to deal with this shit anymore, but he forces himself to take even breaths. He sits down across from Sam and lets his mom and Bobby give him the update on whatever the hell is going on. 

They put out an APB on Lucifer with Jody’s help, but there’s not much to do while they wait. Cas says angel radio is just static, which is its own brand of disturbing, but Dean can’t add anything else to his list of things he has to worry about right now. It looks like the list is going to get expanded regardless of what Dean can handle when the bunker lights start to pop and sizzle. “What the hell is that?” Bobby asks, whirling around.

The reinforced iron door of the bunker suddenly crumples in on himself, and then Michael’s grinning face is there. “Mom, Bobby, take Maggie, get her out of here,” Sam commands.

Their mom looks like she wants to argue, but Bobby is there to pull her away. They rush out of the room, and Sam and Dean pull out their guns to shoot Michael, hoping to slow him down, but it doesn’t even phase him. Cas pulls out his blade and lunges at him, but Michael hits him across the face, flinging him to the floor. Cas just lays there, and Dean gulps and pulls out an angel blade of his own. Dean runs forward to grapple with Michael, but just ends up pinned against the wall for his trouble. “You really though you could run from me?” Michael snarls.

“How did you even get here?” Dean spits.

“Easy. I made a deal, and now this world is mine. I can save it, purge it of sin.”

“Oh, yeah, because that really worked on your rock.”

“I’m not perfect. Yes, I made mistakes, but second time’s the charm. And you, Dean Winchester,” Michael says as he flexes his fingers around Dean’s neck, “will be the first soul I save. Some would consider that an honor.”

“Well, as Shakespeare once said, eat me, dickbag,” Dean says, his last act of defiance, because he can feel Michael’s grip getting tighter, his trachea pinching off as Michael’s grip tightens and he struggles to breathe. His eyes are starting to go unfocused when Jack shows up—with Lucifer? A shockwave knocks Michael away from Dean, and then it’s Michael’s turn to writhe in pain.

“Lucifer, we had a deal!” he screams.

“What does he mean?” Jack demands, turning to Lucifer while Michael continues to howl.

Lucifer tries to hedge an answer, but Dean answers for him. “They had a deal. Lucifer gets you, and Michael gets everything else. He’s going to nuke our world, just like he did his.”

Jack turns to Lucifer with his eyes still glowing, still ethereal. Lucifer stammers out explanations, but Dean guesses they must not be satisfactory to Jack, because Michael gets dropped to the floor, and Jack focuses on Lucifer. “Everything you told me was a lie!” he shouts.

Lucifer shakes his head sadly. “We could’ve been something, you and me. We could’ve remade the universe. It would’ve been great. We could’ve been better gods than Dad, and I really wanted that, pal. I wanted that. But now, if I can’t have it with you, I don’t need you, I just need your power.”

Lucifer lunges forward with his angel blade, making a shallow slit on Jack’s throat and breathing in his grace. “Jack!” Dean shouts.

Sam rushes forward to Jack, fisting a hand in his coat, before there’s a flash of light and Sam, Jack, and Lucifer is gone. “Sammy!”

Dean stares at the spot where they just were. “What just happened?”

“I don’t know,” Cas says stiffly.

“The devil just won. That’s what happened,” Michael offers from his spot in the corner.

“Shut up,” Dean snaps, blood rushing through his ears.

“How do we stop him?” Cas asks Michael.

“You don’t. After consuming the nephilim’s grace, Lucifer’s juiced up. He’s super charged. He’ll kill the boy, your brother. Hell, he could end this whole universe if he put his mind to it. And you thought I was bad,” Michael smirks.

Dean shakes his head. “No. No, I saw you beat him.”

“When he was weaker, and I was stronger. Believe me, I’d love to rip my brother apart. But now, in this banged up meatsuit, it’s not happening. This is the end of the everything.”

Dean swallows, an idea coming to him that he knows no one else is going to appreciate. “What if—what if you had your sword? Your perfect vessel? With me, you’d be stronger than you’ve ever been. If we work together, can we beat Lucifer?”

“Dean, no!” Cas shouts from behind him, but Dean just doesn’t see any other way.

“Can we?” he demands.

“We’d have a chance.”

“Dean, you can’t,” Cas says in distress.

“Lucifer has Sam. He has Jack. Cas, I don’t have a choice!”

Dean turns back to Michael, away from Cas. “If we do this, it’s a one time deal. I’m in charge. You’re the engine, but I’m behind the wheel. Understand?” Dean asks gruffly.

Michael stares at him with dancing eyes. “Got it,” he grins.

Cas comes forward to tug at Dean’s sleeve. “Dean, please.”

Dean shakes his head. “I have to. I love you, okay? I love you, and this is all going to turn out fine,” Dean says with a weak smile before tugging Cas forward to mash their mouths together. Their teeth click, and then Cas shoves him back.

“We can figure out a better way,” he pleads.

“I don’t have time for that. Yes,” Dean says, and white light illuminates the room.

Dean looks down at his hands, power thrumming though them while he looks at Cas staring at him in shock. “Dean?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah, it’s me, sunshine. I’m finally going to end Lucifer, and then we can start the rest of our lives, right?”

“Right,” Cas agrees, even if it’s laced with uncertainty.

Dean lets Michael guide him on how to use his wings. He unfurls them and pinpoints where Lucifer’s grace is surging. He finds them in a church. “Dean?” Sam asks.

Dean nods. “Heya, Sammy.”

He lunges for Lucifer, and they grapple until Dean flies backwards. They meet again in the air, Dean trading shot for shot with Lucifer until Lucifer gets the upper hand and starts wailing on Dean. Lucifer gets a hand on his forehead and starts to smite Michael out of Dean, but then Sam is throwing Dean the archangel blade, and he’s stabbing it through the soft flesh of Lucifer’s stomach. His eyes glow red, and he stares at Dean in something like surprise that anyone could ever finally outsmart him.

Dean feels relief, but mostly he feels numb. Holy fuck, he finally killed the devil. This isn’t a temporary solution; he’s actually dead. Dean’s inspecting the huge wings scorched onto the floor, Sam and Jack grinning at him, when he feels Michael wrestling him for control. He doubles over. He hears Sam calling his name, but it’s all he can do to contain Michael. “We had a deal!” Dean shouts, and then everything goes black.

_Now it’s time for me to go_

_The autumn moon lights my way_

_For now I smell the rain_

_And with it pain_

_And it’s headed my way_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so like Dean's sex thing while Cas was dead had me scratching my head so hard. I was about three seconds away from Dean devising this whole thing himself so Sam would lay off because first of all who the heck is going to leave their bra behind, and second of all, it was in Dean's shared room with Sam? I am very curious as to what whoever wrote that imagined happening during that little time lapse. 
> 
> Also, last chapter for a while! My thought right now is that I will post the next chapter on the midseason finale, and hopefully the final chapter ~ a week from the series finale (it hurts my soul to type those words, honestly)  
There will also be an epilogue. Depending on how long it gets, I'll either tack it on as an extra chapter or just make this a series and have it as a short little story. It's already all plotted out (along with the last line of this fic) so rest assured that no matter what happens, this will have an extremely soppy ending regardless of the gymnastics I have to do to get there.


	7. Rocky Road is More than a Flavor of Ice Cream

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the (I hope) anticipated continuation!

Dean wakes up to the sound of a creaking door. He opens his eyes wide and scrabbles for the gun under his pillow, but it’s not there. He sits up just in time for something to leap on his bed. Dean throws off his covers, ready to fight, but the thing giggles. “Gross, Dad, put some pants on.”

_Dad?_ Dean looks down at himself and is thankful he’s at least wearing boxers. Dean becomes aware of a second person stirring in the bed beside him, and he looks over to the familiar sight of Cas’s messy hair, sticking up in every direction. What’s not so familiar, though, is Cas asking, “Robert? What are you doing up so early?”

“We’re going to the beach today!” Robert bounces.

Dean looks over at Cas again and is surprised to see he has stubble, and even odder, it’s flecked with white. Dean frowns. “Robert, why don’t you go watch tv for a little bit, so your, uh, dad and I can talk.”

Robert skips out of the room, and Cas turns to him with a grimace. “You know I don’t like it when you distract him with mindless things like that.”

Dean gapes at him. “What the hell is going on here?”

“I promised Robert we’d take him to the beach today. Sorry I didn’t ask you.” Cas smiles sheepishly as he brings a hand up to Dean’s face. “I’m sure I can find a way to make it up to you.”

Dean’s eyes catch on the golden band glinting on Cas’s finger. He reaches out and grabs Cas’s hand. “And what the hell is this?”

Cas squints at him. “My wedding band? Dean, are you feeling all right?” Cas reaches out the back of his hand to press against Dean’s forehead. “You’re a little warm. Maybe we shouldn’t go to the beach, after all.”

“You’re a djinn,” he accuses.

The expression on Cas’s face doesn’t change. “I can make it feel real,” he promises, putting a hand on the back of Dean’s neck and pulling him closer. “I can make you happy.” Cas’s breath is hot on Dean’s throat, but Dean yanks away.

“No. I have to get back to my real family.”

Cas gives him a pitying smile.

_Dean? Dean? Are you there? _

Dean wakes up in the back of Baby. As he blinks his eyes open, a familiar voice comes from the front seat. “About time you woke up. Sammy was starting to worry,” his dad says, “You took a nasty hit from a rugaru, knocked you right out.”

Dean reaches up to prod at his head and finds a lump there.

“How do you feel?” Sam asks from the passenger seat, twisting around to get a better look at Dean.

“You gave us a scare, Dean,” his dad says in a voice more concerned than Dean can ever remembering hearing from John before. He thinks back on fuzzy, barely there memories. “You’re not real,” he whispers.

_Dean, you have to fight him._

Dean opens his eyes to darkness. As his eyes adjust, he sees Sam and Cas bent over him, their expressions pinched with concern. “Man, that witch really did a number on you. No wonder you don’t like them; they always get the drop on you,” Sam says with a small smile.

Dean shakes his head, trying to clear the cobwebs. “Yeah, she gave me some really crazy dreams, too.”

“Are you okay?” Cas asks, reaching out a hand to help Dean stand.

“I’m fine. What happened, anyway?”

“The witch wasn’t too happy we killed Lucifer and took her frustrations out on you. We managed to break the spell she hexed you with, but you’ll probably have some short term memory loss,” Cas explains.

Dean frowns. Now that Cas mentions it, he does only have some vague memories of the witch. He shrugs. They go to a diner for supper and make it back to the bunker that night. Cas climbs into bed beside him and wraps his arms around Dean. Dean falls asleep enveloped in contentedness.

In the morning, Dean wakes up to Cas having octopused him even more. There’s a leg thrown over his thigh, and Dean grins at the warmth radiating off of Cas. “Morning, sunshine,” he says, turning to press a kiss to Cas’s nose. Cas wrinkles it, but quickly recovers, giving Dean an enthusiastic kiss followed by a blow job that Dean eventually reciprocates.

They face each other, trying to catch their breath. “I love you,” Dean says easily.

“I love you, too,” Cas says, “but I’d love you even more if you made me coffee.”

Dean laughs and gets out of bed to oblige him. Jack is at the kitchen table engrossed in his tablet. He looks up when he hears Dean’s footsteps. “Good morning,” he chirps.

Dean gives him a nod of greeting, still too half asleep for anything else, and sets to making coffee. When Dean passes Sam in the hallway with his two mugs, Sam smirks at him. “Bitch,” Dean grumbles.

“Jerk,” Sam supplies cheerfully, flipping him off.

Dean and Cas stay in bed practically all day watching Westerns. Dean offers to watch a documentary with Cas, but he says he’s fine, even after Dean makes him rewatch _Dirty Harry_ for the tenth time. “You feelin’ lucky, punk?” Dean recites.

Cas smiles up at him like he thinks he’s adorable, and they share a kiss. “In fact, I think I am feeling lucky.”

The next morning, when he’s making coffee for Cas once again, Sam offers him a beer. Dean raises his eyebrows. “What’s the occasion? Is Mom okay?” he asks, starting to panic.

“No. What, can’t a man just enjoy an eight am beer?”

Dean just looks at him blankly. “Not according to you.”

And then he starts putting things together. “Remind me of how we killed Lucifer again?”

Sam tells him, but none of it sounds familiar to Dean, short term memory loss be damned.

“This isn’t real.”

Sam looks at him and sighs, shaking his head. “You were so close.”

All of a sudden, Dean is gasping for breath, scrabbling at his throat as water crashes down on him and floods into his lungs. The water is pouring in on him from every side, and it leaves him feeling like he’s going to pass out at any second. He thrashes, trying to get relief for his burning lungs, but it doesn’t come.

_Dean, have faith. We’re coming for you._

It seems to go on for forever, stretching out across an eternity. Dean’s in the middle of his constant sputtering, struggling to breathe, when everything finally goes black. His body lurches like someone cut his strings, and Dean slowly realizes Michael is gone. He looks down at his hands in wonder and flexes them. He becomes aware of a soft weight on his head, and he reaches up to tug a hat off with disgust. It’s then that he notices Sam, and he stops in his tracks. “Sammy? It’s me.”

Sam looks shell shocked, and Dean notes his mom and Bobby standing behind him. “Are—are you okay?” Sam asks.

“No, I’m not okay!” Dean snaps. Fuck, he’s been possessed by an archangel for who knows how long, how in the hell is he supposed to be okay? Dean’s surprised he’s not a slobbering mess right now, in all honesty.

“But you got Michael to leave.”

“No, I don’t, I didn’t…”

“What?” Bobby asks.

“He just, left.”

“Why?”

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t know.”

Sam moves forward, looking like he wants to give Dean a hug, and Dean takes a wary step back. Sam stops in his tracks, hurt flickering over his face. Dean clears his throat. “Where’s Cas?”

“We didn’t want Michael to pick up on his grace,” Sam explains, and Dean nods his head in understanding, but he really wants to be able to gauge how pissed Cas is going to be at him for this whole saying yes thing.

Sam’s surprised when Dean goes to sit in the passenger seat on the way home, but he can’t deal with all the stimulation that driving involves right now, not when his senses are in overdrive like they are now. He leans his head against the window and pretends to be asleep when Sam glances over at him in concern.

When Dean walks into the bunker to see bustling hunters, he’s not sure what to think. He looks to Sam. “Yeah, there have been some changes.”

Dean grits his teeth. He really just wanted some normalcy, but it looks like there’s just going to be more people he has to dance around. Peachy. When someone calls Sam _chief_, he’s really not sure what to make of that, either. “Dean?” Jack asks, crossing the room. “Is it really you?”

“Hey kid,” Dean says, and then Jack’s moving forward to hug him, and Dean supposes he’s been enough of a jackass to the kid, so Dean lets Jack hug him even though his skin is still crawling from the sense that it’s not his.

Cas walks in, and Dean stares. Cas looks worried, but he lets out a puff of relief when he sees Dean still in one piece. “Dean,” Cas says with a tentative smile, keeping his distance.

“Cas.” Dean doesn’t need the other hunters spreading rumors right away, so he doesn’t close the gap, either.

“Sorry, I wanted to be there, but we figured Michael would sense my presence.”

“Sam told me. It ain’t no thing.” Dean gives him the biggest smile he can manage at the moment. _God, _Dean just wants things to be right with them, to go right back to where they left off. Cas shoots him a concerned look, and Dean sees Sam’s eyes dart between them.

“Where’s Mary?” Jack asks.

“She and Bobby stayed behind in Duluth to clean up the situation.”

“Speaking of clean up, I need a shower,” Dean says, more than ready to get these terrible fucking clothes off and rub his skin until its raw and feels like his own again.

He starts to walk off to the showers, but Sam stops him. “Hey—”

“Still okay. I promise.” He points a finger at Cas, too, whether to tell him he’s fine, or to signal to join him in the bathroom, Dean doesn’t even know. He leaves it up to Cas to interpret. 

Dean goes to his room and shuts the door with a resounding click, slumping in relief now that all the prying eyes are off of him. Dean knows they’re just concerned, and they probably have a right to be, but he can’t deal with that right now. He surveys his room, finding everything in place, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. He guesses Cas has had no reason to be in their room; it’s not like he sleeps even when Dean’s beside him. He yanks off the clothes Michael dressed him in—he’s been called a Ken doll before, but this is taking it too far. The overshirt thuds to the ground. Dean’s ready to rip his t-shirt off when puckered skin on his arm catches his eye in the mirror. What the fuck? He goes to find Sam.

He’s definitely not hiding from Cas.

He shows Sam the scar, and Sam furrows his brow and calls for Cas, anyway. Dean sighs.

“I don’t know how I got it, so Cas, I’m going to need you to get in my head, do the whole Vulcan mind meld thing because if I can’t remember what happened, I’m going to need you to drag it out of me, okay?”

Cas looks like he wants to argue.

“Cas, c’mon, hit me.”

Cas moves toward him and puts a hand on Dean’s shoulder. Dean jerks as he gets a flash of a cloaked figure stabbing him in the arm with a lance. He grimaces, his mind going back to Kaia’s death, and the cloaked figure that killed her. But, hey, at least they know a weapon that can hurt Michael now.

They call Jody to ask her about rift related issues, and while she says there’s none, she also says she’s had cases about this meat fork looking thing. They get ready to set off for Sioux Falls, but as they’re ready to leave, a hunter bursts through the door, supporting a girl who’s not looking so hot. “The witch I was hunting hexed her,” the hunter explains.

Cas moves towards the girl. “It looks like an aging spell.” He puts two fingers on the girl’s forehead, but nothing happens. “This might take a while. You two go. Get to Sioux Falls before the trail goes cold, and I’ll catch up when I’m done.”

Sam purses his lips. “I don’t know.”

“No, Cas is right. He can handle this. We need to hit the road. Let’s go!”

Dean’s not relieved. He’s not.

He guesses he shouldn’t have been relieved, because he had almost forgotten how much of a nag Sam can be. “You’re in a hurry,” Sam comments, looking pointedly at the speedometer.

“Shouldn’t I be? Don’t worry about that girl; Cas has it handled.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Dean, we still have no idea why Michael let you go, where he is now, or what he wants!” Sam explodes.

“Yep, or who his favorite Spice Girl is.”

Dean can practically hear Sam’s blood pressure going up. “This isn’t a joke! Something huge happened, and you won’t even really talk about it. Look, we need to deal with this whole Michael thing.”

“I’m going at 80 to deal with it. How can I be running from something when I’m racing towards it?”

“I know. Kinda your thing,” Sam says, “I’m just saying. You said you let Michael in, then bang, you’re back in a blink. But for me, you were gone for weeks. I didn’t know if you were alive. I just need you to talk to me. Slow down so I can catch up.”

“Call Jody. Let her know we’re almost there,” Dean says gruffly.

But Sam isn’t done. “Do you think I’m the only one this has been hard on? Cas has been messed up since Michael left with you, and then you didn’t even talk to him when you got back? So yeah, I think you’re running from this whole situation. Trust me, Dean, I know this isn’t easy, but when you wall yourself off like this, you’re just making it harder on everyone involved.”

Dean says nothing, just stares ahead at the road.

When they finally get there, it’s a relief to see Jody again. Sam is still pushing him to open up, but he and Jody are pretty similar. She understands his need to sort his thoughts out on his own before he tells anyone else about them.

They find what killed Kaia, which turns out to be an alternate universe Kaia. Dean scratches his head, but he’s seen weirder. He’ll admit, though, it got under his skin when the other Kaia said he was just like Michael. “I am nothing like him,” Dean had hissed, but now he thinks back to how he treated their Kaia, and he’s not so sure.

“You were right,” Dean admits later, in Baby, while he and Sam are hurtling back towards the bunker. “I just didn’t want to look at it—what Michael used me for. I just wanted to race ahead. You know, skip to the end of the story to the part where I get the weapon and kill Michael. I said yes to him because I thought—” _I thought that’d be it, and you, me, and Cas would finally get our damn vacation on the beach. _“It was stupid. I was stupid.”

“Dean, you did what you had to do.”

Dean’s not done, though. Sam wanted him to talk, and now the flood gates are open, and he can’t hold it in anymore. “It wasn’t a blink. I got possessed. I made it sound like that, but it wasn’t. I don’t remember most of what Michael did with me because I was underwater, drowning, and that, I remember. I felt every second of it—clawing, fighting for air. I thought I could make it out, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t strong enough. Now he’s gone, he’s out there putting an army of monsters together. He’s hurting people. That’s all on me, man. I said yes. It’s my fault.”

Sam shakes his head from the passenger seat. “Let’s not play the blame game, Dean. Isn’t it all my fault because I was the one who let Lucifer out in the first place?”

“Of course not,” Dean says vehemently, but his brain can’t convince itself to see himself in the same light as Sam. 

They make it back to the bunker, but he still can’t make himself talk to Cas. He can’t really make himself talk to anyone. He holes up in his room and only emerges to get food every once in a while. He idly wonders what the other hunters think of that, but they all leave him alone. He could almost pretend they’re not here if his kitchen stuff wasn’t all out of place and lights weren’t constantly on in the library, laughter wafting down the hall to his room.

There’s a knock on his door, and Dean grunts in response. Cas pokes his head in, then fully opens the door with a bag in his hands. “Hello, Dean,” he says as he moves some takeout containers out of the way, so he can sit on the bed.

“Hey.” Dean glances up at him.

Cas just stares at him for a long moment, but Dean swallows and looks away. He still feels molten guilt in his stomach. He said yes to Michael, after Cas begged him not to, and then he was too fucking pathetic to fight him off. “Are you okay?” Cas asks softly, setting a gentle hand on Dean’s leg.

Cas’s hand is a heavy weight. Dean’s not sure he deserves the concern. “I’m fine,” Dean says halfheartedly. He knows Cas isn’t going to believe it no matter how convincing it sounds. Dean still feels used, dirty that there was someone else in his skin. Cas gives him a soft look and pats his leg, and Dean tries not to bristle.

“When you’re ready to talk, I’m here.” Cas stands up and then looks at his other hand, like he forgot he was holding something in it. “Here, this is for you.”

Dean crosses his arms. “I don’t want your pity present.”

“It’s a gift,” Cas says with a pointed look before taking his leave.

Dean opens the bag and pulls out—a pair of socks. Dean looks at them dubiously before seeing that they proclaim “SEND NOODS.” Dean quirks a smile.

Sam finally drags him out of his room to go on a case, and when they come back, Dean is energized. Dean pokes around for Cas, but Sam tells him Cas and Jack are on a case in Sarasota. Dean is disappointed for a second, but he’s undeterred as he goes to his bedroom and locks the door. He kicks off his boots and pulls out his phone. First, he takes a picture of his socks. He sends it to Cas, then he pulls his cock out of his boxers and strokes it until it’s fully erect, precum glistening at the tip. He bites his lip and takes another picture.

Dean: _Hurry home_

_>> 1 attachment_

This is the first time his sex drive has made an appearance since Michael, and Dean plans to take full advantage of it. He strips down to his boxers and gathers his robe around himself before making his way to the showers. He walks quickly through the halls, but when he finally makes it there, he can hear other hunters’ voices bouncing off the walls. He sighs. He slips into a stall and turns the water to cold.

Sam drags him on another case. Apparently he’s got his little protégés hooked up to body cams, and one of them, Maggie, has gone missing on the case she was working. Cas isn’t back yet, so he lets himself be dragged.

His mom and Bobby are already there, working the case, when they arrive. It’s a bit of a jerk to see them getting all cozy together, but he guesses it’s fine. Bobby is a better option than Ketch, after all. He shudders at the thought. What’s more of a shock, though, is when they find a djinn that’s apparently part of Michael’s army of super monsters. Dean’s stomach turns at the thought.

When they get back to the bunker, Dean goes straight for a beer. “Dean,” Sam starts.

“I know, I know. Not my fault. It’s Michael. It’s all Michael. You know, I’ve been trying to, not forget, but move on from what I—what he did. And I gotta be honest, I was starting to feel like myself again. Almost.”

“So, we’ll work harder.”

Dean shakes his head. “How, Sam? You get three hours of sleep a night.” Dean tries his best not to be bitter towards the other hunters, he really tries, but they make it even harder when they monopolize all of Sam’s time. This case was the most time he’s spent with Sam for the past two weeks.

Sam won’t give up, though. “I’ll sleep two. We’re going to find Michael, and when we do, we’ll kill him.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. We’ll track down dark Kaia and her spear. We’ll find something.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Cas still isn’t back. Dean’s too on edge to just sit around, so Dean goes to visit his mom and Bobby. He wants to see more of their dynamic, make sure this is something he can get on board with no matter how _weird _it feels, and he wants to get more of a feel for this Bobby, too.

He makes it to Donna’s cabin, where they’re staying, and he guesses his mom doesn’t feel like cooking because they order takeout. Dean goes with his mom to pick it up while Bobby stays at the cabin. They’re in Baby on the way there when his mom turns to him. “How come you didn’t bring your boyfriend?”

Dean splutters for only a second before recovering. “He’s, uh, on a case.”

His mom hums in response. “I don’t know how well threatening an angel if he doesn’t respect my son would go, but I want to get to know him better, at least.”

Dean can’t help but laugh as he thinks about Cas and his mom having that conversation. “I don’t think you have to worry about defending my honor, Mom. It’s been shot for years.”

She rolls her eyes at him, and Dean feels a little lighter.

He makes it back to the bunker in the middle of the night and collapses onto his bed. When his door creeps open about three hours later, he jerks awake, lunging for his gun. “It’s me,” Cas’s voice soothes.

Dean’s hand loosens from the grip on his pistol. “Hey.” He squints against the light. “How was Sarasota?”

Cas shrugs. “It was fine. Jack is doing well. He’s definitely doing better coping without his powers than I ever did.”

Dean frowns and gestures to Cas to come lay down. “You good?”

Cas flops onto the bed next to Dean, rattling the frame. “I think this is harder on me than it is on him. I just—Dean, you’re going to die someday, and I don’t know how well of terms I’ll be on with Heaven whenever that happens. But with Jack, I thought I finally had someone that was going to be with me forever, someone to stand by me no matter what. But I guess that was naïve.”

Dean swallows. “That’s, uh, that’s some heavy stuff there.”

Cas shoots him a small smile. “Sorry.”

“No,” Dean says hastily, “I want you to let me in on how you’re feeling. We’re turning over a new leaf since you came back to me, right?”

Cas scoots closer to Dean. Dean takes Cas’s face between his hands and kisses him soundly. “You know I love you, right?”

“Something like that,” Cas says coyly.

Dean presses closer to Cas. “I guess I better show you, then.”

Dean’s unbuttoning Cas’s shirt, but Cas stops him. “Are you sure?”

Dean swallows. “‘Course I am.”

Cas gives him a tentative smile and moves even closer to brush his lips against Dean’s. “I missed you,” he says as he tugs Dean’s shirt over his head.

“You’re not mad at me?”

“I am, but this is a little bit more important right now.” Cas reaches between them and grinds his palm on Dean’s crotch.

Dean shivers and undoes his pants, the zipper echoing loudly in the air. “Michael tried to give me you. We were married, had kids, and we were finally going to the damn beach,” Dean whispers.

Cas’s hand stops in its trail from Dean’s bellybutton to his cock and squints at Dean. “Is that something you want?”

Dean looks away and shrugs, but Cas tilts Dean’s chin back up. “I don’t think that’s in the cards for us, baby,” Dean mumbles.

Cas hums, then takes Dean’s cock in his hand, trailing his fingertips down the length and making Dean gasp, “Fuck.”

Dean scrabbles at Cas’s pants and boxers, pulling them down his hips. He moves down Cas’s body, lathing kisses along his path until he’s mouthing at the base of Cas’s cock, getting a nose full of coarse hair. Dean drags his tongue to the head of Cas’s cock, and Cas shudders as it twitches in response. Cas’s hand comes down to curl in Dean’s hair, tugging lightly. Dean kitten licks around Cas’s cockhead until Cas tugs harder on his hair. Dean smirks and takes Cas deeper into his mouth. He reaches a hand around to Cas’s ass, sliding a finger between his cheeks and ghosting over his hole. Dean looks up to gauge Cas’s reaction and pulls off to ask, “Is that okay?”

“Yes,” Cas answers breathlessly, fumbling around in the nightstand on Dean’s side of the bed. He presses the lube into Dean’s hand, Dean snaps open the lid, pouring it onto his fingers and rubbing them together. He scoots down the bed until he’s sitting between Cas’s legs and hoists Cas’s ankles up on his shoulders, rubbing at the tendons in his calves. He circles Cas’s hole with his finger before slipping it inside.

“You’re not going to hurt me, you know. You don’t have to be so gentle,” Cas pants.

Dean turns his head so he can kiss Cas’s ankle. “I want to.”

Dean adds another finger and scissors his fingers, feeling the heat as Cas’s hole stretches around him. There isn’t much more of an added stretch after Dean adds a third finger and more lube. “Dean,” Cas moans as Dean brushes his prostate.

“I got you, babe,” Dean sings as he pulls out his fingers and wipes them on the bed sheet. He looks down at Cas to catch the tail end of his eye roll. He adds more lube to his fingers and jacks himself before lining up with Cas’s hole. He pushes in slowly, trailing his fingers along Cas’s inner thighs.

Cas chuckles, a deep, rumbling thing. “Ticklish?” Dean asks as he thrusts in all the way.

Cas throws his head back, exposing the line of his throat as he groans, not bothering to answer.

Dean starts to build up a rhythm, pushing in and out, Cas moaning every time Dean brushes his prostate. Dean starts to stutter several minutes later, and he reaches down to stroke Cas’s leaking cock. “Fuck, Dean!” Cas cries as his orgasm overtakes him, spurting white over them both. Dean starts to pull out, but Cas hooks his ankles behind Dean’s neck. “I want you,” he says, looking up at Dean with glazed eyes.

Dean swallows and comes, pulsing into Cas. He stays there, leaning forward to kiss Cas until he slips out. “I love you,” Dean whispers, brushing his lips over Cas’s cheek.

He looks down curiously as his cum drips sluggishly from Cas’s ass. “Go clean me up,” Cas complains when he notices what Dean’s looking at.

Dean rolls his eyes fondly and reaches over Cas to dig in the other nightstand for the wet wipes. Cas rolls over, and Dean wipes him down. He drapes himself over Cas and nibbles at his ear until Cas bats him away and tugs Dean to lay down beside him. Cas hooks a leg over Dean’s thigh and holds him close.

“I’m glad I got you those socks,” Cas says gravely.

Dean snorts into his pillow. He’s missed this.

_Let me take you to the movies_

_Let me take you to the show_

_Let me be yours ever truly_

_Can I make your garden grow_

In the morning, Dean wakes up to Cas nosing at his chin. “What?” Dean asks fuzzily.

“I have to go.”

“Baby,” Dean complains, “you just got here.”

“I have to continue to search for Nick.”

At this, Dean sits up. “Nick? Nick who? Vessel-for-Satan Nick?”

“Did Sam not tell you?” Cas asks in confusion.

“No! What the hell is going on? I—I killed Lucifer! Cas, tell me that wasn’t all for nothing,” Dean pleads.

“No, Lucifer is dead. His vessel just somehow survived, and now he’s off somewhere doing who knows what.” Cas combs his fingers through Dean’s hair soothingly.

Dean grumbles, and it doesn’t help when Cas leaves with a request for Dean to take Jack somewhere. “He’s still scared of you.” Cas glares at him as he runs his fingers up and down Dean’s chest, and it’s an interesting juxtaposition, that’s for sure.

“Fine. We’ll do something, have some quality bonding time,” Dean relents, and it’s worth it for the smile Cas turns on him. It’s one of the gummy ones, the ones that make Dean defenseless.

Dean catches Cas hand as he gets off the bed. “I love you.”

Cas gives him a beatific smile. “I know.”

Dean burrows back into his pillows to try to fall back asleep, but without Cas there, he doesn’t have much luck. He sighs and pushes his covers off of himself. He gets up and starts the search to find something to wear that isn’t too wrinkled or offensive smelling.

He makes his way to the kitchen where he sees Jack sitting at the table, pouring sugar into his coffee. “Geez, what’s up with all the sugar?”

“Well, without my powers, everything tastes different, so I can’t get this how I like it.”

“Seen Sam?”

“He went to meet up with Charlie. You were on an overnight run to Mary and Bobby’s place, and he said it couldn’t wait. They’re probably doing something really exciting,” Jack sighs wistfully.

Dean snorts. “Hunting is about 92 percent research and three percent exciting, kid, don’t worry. So he just left you here, huh?”

“Yes. Sam wanted someone around when you came back. He’s worried about you.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Yeah, that sounds like him.”

“Dean, what happened with Michael, no one blames you.”

“Cool, well I blame me, so…”

Dean’s almost relieved when Jack coughs, giving them both cause to brush past what he just said. “Still with that cough, huh?” Jack had been coughing before he left to go on the hunt with Cas; Dean would’ve thought it was better by now.

“Maybe I’m allergic to sitting around doing nothing,” Jack snarks.

Dean raises his eyebrows. “Alright, what do you want to do?”

“Hunt. Sam says I can’t go alone, but Cas and I, we’ve been working cases.”

“And he said you’ve been doing good on those. No offense, but Cas is an insurance policy on those hunts. Sam’s just trying to keep you safe, okay? He’s a smart guy.”

Jack pulls out his tablet and shows Dean something that definitely looks like a case. “I’ll go check it out,” Dean says.

“No, we’re supposed to have a partner for all hunts now, right? We can be hunting buddies.”

“Okay. A, don’t call it that, and B, you’re going to back me up?” Dean scoffs.

“Dean, I need to do something. You don’t understand. I could have killed Michael here, when I was strong enough.”

Dean definitely does understand.”Fine,” he relents, “but Sam is going to kill me.”

By the end of the case, Dean’s definitely softened towards the kid. He means, he might have been a little hurt when Jack called him an old man, but it was all part of the act, Dean’s sure. The kid calling him in a panic about sex might have reminded him of how Sam used to be, too. And now Dean’s getting all sentimental, fuck. Dean looks over at Jack in the passenger seat of Baby and gives him a small smile. “What?” Jack demands.

“Nothing.”

Dean’s fuzzy feelings last about until the time Jack gives another cough and his hand comes away bloody. Dean looks at him in alarm, getting ready to make him sit the fuck down and rest, but then Jack’s face drains of its color and he crumples to the ground. “Jack? Jack! Jack!” Dean calls, but there’s no response. Dean drops to his knees beside Jack, in full panic mode because he was _fine _ten seconds ago; why the hell is he passed out now? He gingerly shakes Jack’s shoulder, but beyond a pained moan, he doesn’t respond. He puts his fingers to Jack’s neck and is vaguely reassured by the dull thud he feels vibrating his fingertips. He scoops Jack up and carries him into the infirmary, laying him on one of the beds. Dean whips out his phone to call Cas. Fuck, this is why he doesn’t get close to people.

“Hello?” Cas asks when he answers after too many rings.

“Cas, Cas, it’s Jack. He just passed out.”

“Dean? Slow down. What happened?”

“It’s Jack,” Dean says, slower this time.

“I’m coming home,” Cas says, and Dean sags in relief.

Dean swallows and looks at Jack lying small and vulnerable on the bed. He texts Sam to come home. He tries not to panic. Maybe this is some weird former nephilim puberty thing. Cas will know, right? He drags a chair to the side of Jack’s bed and settles in to wait.

Dean looks down when his phone buzzes in his hand.

Sam: _What’s wrong?_

Dean blows a breath through his nose. He’s already tired of reiterating what happened, and no one’s even been here to actually ask him about it yet.

Dean: _its jack… I don’t know whats wrong_

Dean hears a rustling of sheets and he looks up hopefully, but it’s just Jack thrashing around, twisting the thin blanket around his legs. Dean lays a hand on Jack’s forehead, half hoping to find a fever, because at least he knows how to deal with that, but he’s barely warm to the touch. He leans back in his chair again to wait for Cas, keeping vigil.

Jack hasn’t moved again when Dean hears the bunker door creak open. “Cas?” he calls.

Cas rushes into the room. “What happened?” he asks breathlessly.

Dean explains again, and Cas’s brow pinches in concern. He gives Jack a once over before turning back to Dean. “You look terrible,” Cas says, with all his usual finesse, “Go get some sleep. I’ll take care of it.”

Dean opens his mouth to protest, but Cas levels him with a glare. “Yes, mom,” he grumbles, and shuffles out of the room.

Dean stops outside the door and leans his head back against the wall. _Fuck_.

Dean hadn’t expected to be able to get any sleep, but he jerks awake when there’s a banging on his door. He squints down at his mp3 player and pauses his music, pulling his headphones off his ears. Sam pokes his head through the door. “Hey.”

Dean yawns and swings his legs off the bed. “How’s the kid?”

Sam shrugs. “Cas is still with him.”

Dean rubs at his eyes and trails after Sam back to the infirmary. “What’s taking so long?”

“I don’t know. Whatever’s going on with Jack is probably complicated.”

“Yeah, but I mean, weird stuff happens to kids all the time. They get coughs, bloody noses,” Dean says hopefully, but he thinks this has moved beyond normal kid stuff.

Cas walks out of the door and Dean looks up. “Is he okay?”

“I did what I could, but I don’t know what’s wrong with him.”

“But you can figure it out, right?”

Dean hears Jack thrashing inside the room, and he and Sam rush into the room to see Jack seizing on the bed, his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

“Jack? Jack? Hey, Jack!” Sam shouts, moving forward to grab Jack’s shoulder and shake him, but he doesn’t stop writhing on the bed.

“Okay, all right, if Cas doesn’t know what’s wrong, I think it’s time to take him to the hospital,” Sam decides.

Cas looks at them doubtfully but doesn’t argue. Sam moves around to help him with Jack’s feet, and they carry him to the garage into Baby, Cas hovering behind them.

By the time they’ve made it to the hospital, Dean white knuckling the steering wheel the whole way, Jack can stand on his own, albeit not very steadily. They’re arguing with the nurse when Jack collapses again, but at least that convinces her to actually get Jack to a doctor.

While Jack’s closed inside one of the sterile white rooms, Dean paces impatiently in front of the set of squeaky plastic chairs Sam and Cas sit on. Sam flips through a Better Homes and Gardens from 2008, and Dean wishes he had the energy to make fun of him for it. Dean continues to pace until Cas stands up and sets a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down,” he says quietly, “you’re making Sam more nervous.”

Dean aches to be able to take comfort in Cas, but he hasn’t told Sam about them yet, and he doesn’t quite think now is the appropriate time. He sits down in the chair and buries his face in his hands.

Eventually, what seems like at least a year later, the doctor comes out. He tells them Jack’s test results came back negative, which initially seems like a good thing, but then Dean just learns that that means they don’t know what’s wrong. It gets even worse when he tells them Jack’s organs are failing. Dean’s mouth goes dry, and he shoots a glance at Cas who looks stricken.

Dean makes an executive decision to get Jack out of the hospital and back to the bunker. He thinks they’ve definitively ruled out that it’s something normal, not that there was ever much of a chance after Cas didn’t know what was wrong. He guesses it was better to feel like they were doing something rather than sitting around with their thumbs up their asses waiting for Rowena to show up to take a look, but now that’s exactly what they’re headed back to do.

Rowena is there more quickly than Dean expected, but she doesn’t have any action for them to take either. She says Jack’s body is getting torn apart because his grace is gone.

“If grace is what he needs, he can have mine,” Cas says immediately.

Dean looks over at him in surprise, but Rowena waves him off. “No, dear, it won’t do. Jack is part archangel. He needs a much stronger force and probably some kind of magic, and he needs it quick.”

Cas deflates. Dean doesn’t know what else there’s left to do at this point, so he escapes to the kitchen. His fingers itch to be useful, so he pulls down some pans and opens the fridge, looking for something to make. He’s in the middle of making Jack a sandwich when a pair of arms wrap around his waist. He leans back into Cas, settling against his chest. “What are we going to do?” Cas asks.

Dean shakes his head helplessly. “I don’t know.”

Cas goes off to comb the library for a third time, and Dean takes his sandwich he made to Jack. He stops in his tracks when he sees Jack stuffing clothes into a duffel bag. “You, uh, you going somewhere?”

“Before my life is over, I want to live it. I just want a chance to get a tan, see a hockey game, get a parking ticket, get bored, and then, when it’s all over, die.”

“So that’s your plan, huh?”

“I don’t want to waste time arguing. I know you disagree.”

“Did I say I disagree? I think it’s a good idea. Gotta live a little before you die, right?” Dean smiles weakly.

Dean goes into the hallway while he waits for Jack to finish packing and witnesses the controlled chaos. Dean’s a little awed at their ragtag team, honestly. Rowena’s on the phone with some other witch, Cas is flipping through a book, and Sam is just hanging up his cell phone. “Well, I just got done talking to Ketch. He’s got a line on a shaman. The British Men of Letters used to use him as a co—”

Dean can still vaguely hear Sam talking, but his vision cuts out and goes blurry, and it’s more than a little disconcerting.

“Okay, I’ll go,” Cas says, as Dean blinks his eyes rapidly, trying to get back with the program, “You and Dean need to stay here with, uh,” he trails off as Jack comes into sight, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Jack, hey. What are you going?” Sam asks.

“We’re headed out.”

“Where?” Cas asks, his forehead wrinkled in concern.

“We’re taking Baby for some exercise,” Dean cuts in.

“You think that’s a good idea?” Sam asks.

“Yeah,” Dean answers, “Come on,” he says to Jack, jerking his head in the direction of the garage.

He ends up teaching Jack to drive, and even though he’s normally so protective of Baby, he can’t help the swell of pride that fills him at the sight of Jack behind the wheel. The pride is just as quickly washed away by a wave of melancholy, though. Looking back, he can’t believe how hard he was on Jack in the beginning. Actually, he can, but it doesn’t make him feel like any less of an ass just because he was going through some shit. So was everyone else, but they all managed to not be jerks.

Jack wants to go fishing, too, and who’s Dean to tell him no? They get a cup of bait and some beer, and then Dean drives until they see a pond. He glances around and doesn’t see any no trespassing signs, so that’s good enough for him. He pulls over into an area that seems sheltered enough from the road and hopes that there aren’t any birds around that are going to shit on Baby. He gets out and opens the back door, reaching under the back seat until his fingers close around one of the fishing poles that live there. His dad had kept them there for as long as Dean could remember, and Dean had never felt the need to remove them. He hands one of the poles to Jack, and they head to the pond Dean had spotted. Dean teaches him how to bait the hook, cast the line, and reel it back in. “Well, bait and beer. You’re a cheap date. This certainly isn’t Tahiti,” Dean comments.

“You once told me you and your father did the exact same thing. It was your happiest memory of him.”

Dean racks his brain. “I didn’t say that.” He and his dad had done lots of stuff together; a day spent shooting the shit and catching nothing couldn’t possibly be his happiest memory of his dad.

“It was the way you said it. I could tell.”

Dean thinks a little bit more about the rest of the stuff they usually did, the tenseness and cold anger that seemed to permeate a lot of their moments and concedes the point. Jack continues, “I guess my point is, that if I don’t make it, the stuff I’d miss wouldn’t be things like Tahiti or the Taj Mahal. I’d miss more time with you. I’m getting that life isn’t all these big amazing moments. It’s time together that matters, like this.”

“Well, who would’ve though hanging out with me could make you sentimental?” Dean asks, but fuck, now _he’s_ getting sentimental and he’s not ready to let this newfound easiness with his family go.

“I’ve had a good life, Dean,” Jack says, and Dean’s determined to make sure that it isn’t almost over.

Back at the bunker, Cas has returned from meeting the shaman with a spell in hand. He hands it to Rowena, who has seemed to have taken a shine to Jack. “This shaman was legit?” Dean asks cautiously.

“I mean, he was definitely odd, but he seemed honest,” Cas answers, and Dean trusts his judgement.

“So we’re still not certain this going to work?” Sam presses.

“No, we’re not certain, but…” Cas trails off.

Rowena steps up to Jack. “Ready?”

He answers in the affirmative, and Rowena recites the spell. They all look at Jack, watching for any minute signs that he’s going to be better, until he collapses on the floor.

Sam, Dean, and Cas watch as Rowena paces around the bed she’s moved Jack to, mumbling under her breath. Eventually, she steps back. “So, what can we do?” Dean asks.

“Watch over him. Stay by his side as he dies.”

They share grim looks. Dean pulls up a chair and gestures for Cas to sit. He does the same for Sam, then for himself until they’ve formed a solemn little triangle around the bed. Dean gives Sam a furtive glance and reasons his hand is out of view, so he reaches over to grab Cas’s.

They sit there for a while, Dean losing track of time because he never got around to fixing the damn clock on the wall of the infirmary. At some point, Jack starts wheezing in his sleep, and Sam opens cupboards until he finds oxygen and a mask. Dean bounces his leg until Sam sends him a glare, then he taps his fingers on his thigh. Cas reaches over to put a hand over his, and Dean tries not to vibrate out of his skin with all of his nervous energy. Eventually, Jack’s eyes open, and he tries to sit up. Sam reaches forward to put a hand on Jack’s chest. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s all right. Take it easy, take it easy.”

Jack reluctantly leans back, but he looks around the room at all of their solemn faces. “Please don’t be sad. Maybe this is how things are supposed to be.”

“Don’t give me that meant to be crap. This isn’t part of some damn plan,” Dean growls, standing up from his chair. His legs protest after being in the same position for so long, but he doesn’t let himself pay attention to them. He has to get out of here; he’s suffocating from breathing in the unbearably stuffy air of the infirmary. He can hear Cas calling his name, but he walks out into the hallway, anyway. Cas is right behind him. “Dean,” he pleads.

“I can’t. It’s just not right, Cas, you know? It’s just, it’s not—”

“What? It’s not fair? I know that. But he needs you.”

Dean takes a deep breath and drags a hand over his face. Cas comes up behind him and puts a gentle hand on his back. They walk back into the infirmary, and Sam looks up at them, grief written on his face. “He’s gone.”

Dean tries to swallow, but his throat won’t cooperate with him. He was gone for literally two minutes, and the kid goes and dies on him? Sam takes it even harder, storming off. Cas moves forward to go after him, but Dean holds him back. “Just let him be. If he needs his space, we’re going to give it to him.”

Dean’s hand slides down Cas’s arm from where he was holding him in place to tangle their fingers together. “You good?” he asks gruffly.

Cas just shakes his head. “I need a little bit.”

Dean tries to give Cas a gentle kiss, but Cas only reluctantly accepts it. Dean grabs his hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

Dean feels Cas’s hand go limp in his, so he releases it and watches Cas disappear into the depths of the bunker. Dean wanders around aimlessly until he stops, hovering outside Jack’s room. His hand rests on the door, his fingers tracing the grains of the wood, but he doesn’t push it open. This doesn’t seem real. Jack really did remind him of Cas, the way he was so forgiving. Dean wasn’t used to people giving him the benefit of the doubt, but they both always did, even when he was being an ass. And now Jack’s gone, and Cas is all torn up about it. Dean rubs his hands over his eyes and resolves to be there for Cas, to actually be a good boyfriend for once. For now, Cas needs space, and Dean can give him that.

Dean pulls out his phone to call his mom to give her the news, but it goes to voicemail. Dean bites his lip. He doesn’t want to lay this on her voicemail, but he also doesn’t want to have to rehash it whenever she finally calls him back. He explains the situation, trying his best to keep his voice from cracking.

He turns the corner and sees Cas. “Hey, you seen Sam?”

“He just left.”

“_What_?” Dean takes off towards the garage, hearing Cas’s footsteps trailing behind him.

He yanks Baby’s door open and jams the key into the ignition, nothing Cas quietly sliding in next to him. He takes a centering breath as they back out of the garage and head out on to the road, because he said he was going to be a good boyfriend, but, “How could you just let him leave, man? You saw what he was like.”

“Dean, you said to give him space,” Cas says indignantly.

“Yeah, space in the bunker, with us, not this!”

There’s a tense second of silence before Cas points to a spot along the road just ahead of them, and Dean lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when he sees Sam.

The relief is gone just as quick when Dean jumps out of Baby and sees the sorrow on Sam’s face, the lost confusion. Dean’s seen that look in the mirror more times than he can count. “Tell me you didn’t make a deal!” He demands.

“A deal? No, I was trying to make him a pyre, and I couldn’t even do that for him. I should’ve done more,” Sam says, his face twisted up, “I should’ve tried harder. The spells, the lore, what good is it if we couldn’t even save him?”

“At least you were there for him,” Dean says.

Cas shakes his head. “This doesn’t feel right. It’s just not how I thought Jack’s story would end. The certainty of death, even for angels, has always felt natural, but this doesn’t. Jack being taken before his time. I mean, taken before me.”

“So, what do we do?” Sam asks.

It feels like there’s a rock in Dean’s gut, but he has two people depending on him for support right now, so he can’t fall apart. “Say goodbye—tomorrow. Tonight, we get loaded.”

The night ends with Dean feeling fuzzier than he has in a while. He can’t remember the last time he was properly _drunk_. Whenever he drinks is normally accompanied by Sam and Cas scowling at him, but tonight he got a free pass, and he definitely used it. Sam left a while ago, and now Dean’s sitting alone at the table after Cas left with a lingering hand on Dean’s shoulder. He briefly considered chasing the heat and promise of Cas’s hand, but he’s feeling a little too wobbly for that. He’s not all that confident he could even get it up, honestly. He rests his head on his hands and shuts his eyes, just resting them for a second…

Dean startles awake when he hears the lilt of a women’s voice in the bunker. He rubs at his eyes before getting up, bracing himself on the table. He thinks he might still be a little drunk because he stumbles when he goes to take a step. He centers himself before following the voices into the library, where he sees an old woman. Sam must be able to read his look of confusion, because he says, “Dean, you remember Lily Sunder.”

Dean does a double take.

It turns out that Sam invited Lily there to try to translate the angel tablets that Kevin never got around to. Dean’s skeptical, and Lily thumbs through them for no more than a few minutes before she says she can’t. Dean folds his arms across his chest and leans against one of the book shelves. “All right. Thanks for stopping by.”

“Wait! You can use my magic. It draws power from the human soul. It might be able to save Jack.”

“You’d give your soul up?” Sam asks.

“Not my soul. His.”

Dean blanches. “Pass.”

“It’s not his entire soul. As long as he’s only using it to sustain his body, he won’t even miss it.”

“If Jack is in heaven, I might be able to pull his soul into his body,” Cas muses.

Dean’s more doubtful. “And you’d do all this for us, huh? For what? Out of the kindness of your heart?”

Lily wants them to help her get to heaven, and Dean reluctantly agrees to go along with Sam and Cas. They set everything they’ll need for the spell up, and Cas leaves to go find Jack’s soul while Sam and Dean try to help Lily. They summon Anubis, but he ends up telling them that he doesn’t decide where people go, just their individual choices. Lily looks heartbroken, but Dean’s not alarmed until she starts packing her things, saying she can’t help them if they won’t hold up their end of the deal. Dean stands in front of her. “You know what I think? Burning through all your soul made you not even human anymore. Otherwise, how could you ever let anyone go through what you went through? The pain of losing a kid? Don’t do this to us,” Dean says, and he thinks it might be the closest to begging he’s gotten since Hell.

Lily’s face crumples, and they go to get Jack’s body. Dean’s chest twinges painfully when he sees it, and he looks over to see the feeling mirrored on Sam’s face. Dean moves to Jack’s feet, and Sam helps him to move the body. Dean tries to ignore the lack of give in Jack’s limbs, and the slight smell that’s starting to emanate from the body. They settle Jack down on a table in the library and cover him with a sheet. They paint sigils where Lily directs them to and light candle until she deems them ready. “Cas, I hope you can hear me. We’ve got Jack. His shell—it’s ready to go. Here’s hoping that you’re staring at him right now. So, if you are, then do your thing, okay? Uh, amen.”

Lily says an incantation, and Jack jerks up and splutters out a cough, his eyes glowing. “Hey, hey. How do you feel?” Sam asks.

“Good. I feel… good,” Jack says in amazement, and Dean’s not able to stop himself from leaning forward to give the kid a hug.

Dean looks over at Lily to tell her thanks, but she’s slumped over in her chair. “Lily?” There’s no response, and Dean puts his fingers to her neck. He looks to Sam and shakes his head.

An age later, the bunker door creaks open and Cas returns. Dean rushes over from his waiting spot at the war room table and bounds up the steps to meet him. “It worked!” Dean exclaims, hooking an arm around Cas’s back and bringing him forward to give him a kiss.

Cas moves his lips stiffly, so Dean releases him and looks him up and down. “You good?”

“Yes, I—I just can’t believe it worked. Jack is back, and I talked to Naomi while I was up there, and she gave me Michael’s location, even if we still need to find that spear.”

“Damn. When do things ever work out this good for us?” Dean grins at Cas, but Cas flits his eyes away before looking back to meet Dean with a tentative smile.

He shakes his head. “They never seem to, do they?”

That night, Dean throws an arm around Cas’s leg in their bed. Cas has his knitting pulled out, and he’s adorably squinting at the rows of yarn, his tongue poking out through his teeth. “You know I love you, right?” Dean asks, and Cas sets a hand in Dean’s hair, stroking through it.

“Go to sleep,” he says, “I think I’m going to check on Jack.”

Dean frowns, but he knows that’s probably a smart idea. “Yeah, okay,” he says to Cas’s back.

They don’t have the spear, and, as Ketch tells their disbelieving ears, he put the egg that’s the only thing they have that’ll work against an archangel into the _mail_. “We appreciate the effort,” Sam assures Ketch.

“Do we?” Dean hisses.

They plan to break into the facility where their egg is being held, since it’s a _holiday, _and it’s closed. Dean rolls his eyes. What happened to through sleet, rain, or snow? Garth, who Sam had recruited to go undercover in Michael’s army of monsters, calls them to say Michael’s sending some of his goons to go get the spear. Dean perks up at that info, but his mood is quickly dampened when Garth tells them Michael intends to attack all of Kansas City and turn everyone. “Garth said Michael’s going to give the signal at midnight, so if we can get to him before he does…” Sam says, snapping Dean out of his thoughts.

“All right. Me and Cas will go deal with Michael’s monsters and get the spear. You and Jack do your mail run and get the egg. We’ll meet where Garth tells us with both weapons, and we’ll hit him from both sides.”

Dean is ecstatic that this whole thing is almost over. They almost have a weapon that can kill Michael, they have a location where Michael will be, and his family is back together. His spirits aren’t even dampened when he tries to play Zep IV and it turns out the tape deck is broken. He turns to Cas and grins. “Guess we’ll just have to sing our own music then, huh?”

Cas gives him a groan and a small smile.

His mood sinks when the spear or any of Michael’s men are nowhere to be found. He calls Garth, but Garth swears up and down they’re in the spot where Michael told him. “Just call us if you hear anything, okay?” Dean gives an exasperated sigh, but he’s cut off by a blade pressing against his neck. He flits his eyes to the side until he sees Kaia. He sees Cas edging towards her, and he gives a subtle shake of his head. “You think you can take this from me?” Kaia demands.

“Look, we didn’t come here to fight you for it. I came to ask.”

Somehow, Dean convinces Kaia to give them the spear, with the promise that they’ll help her get back to the bad place after they’ve killed Michael. Kaia slinks away just as Dean’s phone rings. It’s Sam, with the news that Michael has Jack and destroyed their egg.

Cas tells Sam not to go in there alone, and it’s a relief when Sam agrees. Dean doesn’t know what he expected, though. It’s not like Sam is him.

Turns out Sam is a little more like him than Dean thought, because he has Jack with him when Dean and Cas arrive on scene with the spear.

He didn’t attempt to find Michael, though, so they set off to what hopefully isn’t certain death. They hatch a hasty plan, and things pass in a blur, Dean’s adrenaline spiking until he finds himself face to face with Michael. Dean throws punches and parries with the spear until he has the spear pointed at Michael’s throat. He tenses his arm, ready to plunge forward, when his vision goes blurry and his knees stop supporting him.

Dean wakes up to Pamela throwing a glass of water in his face. He jerks his head up from where it was resting on a countertop. “What the fuck was that for?” he splutters.

“Quit being a lazy ass. You’ve got limes to prep before tonight.”

Dean rubs at his eyes and tries to recall hazy memories. “Shit, what’d I drink yesterday?”

Pamela smirks. “I lost count after shot number six. Pretty sure you embarrassed yourself on Cas’s voicemail, though, don’t worry.”

Dean groans and puts his head back down on the counter. “When are he and Sam going to be back, anyway? A stupid ghoul shouldn’t be taking this long.”

“Yeah, yeah, quit your grumbling. I’m sure your boyfriend’ll be home soon.”

Dean can feel heat rising to his face, but he doesn’t protest it. “I just wish he didn’t feel like he has to be doing something all the time. What’d Sam make this whole network of hunters for if he’s still going to take every case that comes his way?”

Pamela plops a bucket of limes and a knife next to him and walks away without comment, so Dean contents himself by making faces to himself. Even if Sam doesn’t want to stop hunting, he’s glad he could manage to get Charlie to help him get this bar. He just wishes Cas would stay without Dean actually having to ask him to. Even though their relationship has come a long way, open communication is still something Dean’s working on. He just doesn’t want to say something and make Cas feel like he has to stay if he doesn’t want to. He supposes actually telling people about their relationship would be a good step, too. No matter how many pointed comments Sam and Pamela make, he’s never actually confirmed it to them, and he’s not entirely convinced they think he has big enough balls to have ever made a move on Cas. Dean doesn’t know what he’s waiting for at, this point. Maybe he is just waiting for Cas to stay.

He snorts to himself. That seems like a pipe dream.

Eventually, Sam and Cas do come back, spewing about how none of this is real. Pam and Dean have a good laugh about it until Sam spits out, “Poughkeepsie. Listen to me, Dean! Michael is possessing you! You’re stuck in a loop, in your mind.”

Dean looks around his bar. “Guys, this is my life. This is my dream.”

“No, it’s not. It’s just a dream. That’s all it is,” Cas says, a note of pleading coming into his voice.

Dean stares at them in shock as his memories start to pour back in. He’s really getting sick and tired of Michael screwing with his mind. As he thinks that, Michael appears with a slow clap. “Get out of my head,” Dean hisses.

“You don’t mean that, Dean, not really. You may lie to them, but, deep down, I know you. I am you. You only tolerate the angel because you think you owe him, because he gripped you tight and raised you from perdition, or whatever. But since then, what has he done besides make one mistake after another?” Dean clenches his jaw, but Michael keeps going, “And Sam, Dean was his happiest when you quit hunting, leaving him with your dad, just the two of them. He knows you’ll always abandon him, again and again.”

“Shut up!” Dean shouts.

“You were desperate to get away from them. That’s why you said yes.”

“And I said shut your damn mouth!”

“Wait. Something’s wrong,” Cas says, “You’re stalling.”

“Am I?” Michael raises an eyebrow.

“He’s buying time so that his monsters can get to us and rescue him, because in here, we’re all just projections. We’re all equal.”

Dean exchanges a glance with Sam and Cas, and they fling themselves on Michael. He tries to beat them back, keep them at bay, but it’s three against one. “Even if you could force me out, what do you think I’d leave behind?” Michael asks, spitting out a mouthful of blood.

“Then we don’t kick you out. We keep you in,” Dean replies, and he shoulders Michael into the cooler of his bar, barring the door. “It’ll hold. My mind, my rules.”

They all look cautiously at the door, but it holds up against Michael’s banging. “So, how do we get out of here?”

Later, after Michael’s monsters had cleared out and Sam had driven them all back to the bunker, (which had everyone shooting Dean concerned looks) Billie comes to visit Dean. Death is the last person Dean expects to be paying him a casual visit, so he can’t say he’s all that surprised when she delivers her grim news. “All of the notebooks describing your death have been rewritten. They all end the same way now—with the archangel Michael escaping your mind and using you as his vessel to burn down this world.”

Dean’s heart sinks. “All of them?”

“All of them. Except one.” Billie hands him the book, and Dean holds it gingerly. She disappears, leaving Dean swirling with questions. He cracks open the spine, and he doesn’t like what he reads, to say the least. He swallows as he reads how the book describes the blackness one of the future hims experiences, the bleakness of only his own and Michael’s company for all of time. It tells him he has to build a spelled box, a Ma’lak box, to shut himself into, so that Michael is contained. Dean closes the book carefully and looks around his room for a hiding place. He lifts up his mattress and shoves it under there with some of the gay skin mags he’s amassed. He wants to smirk at the idea of a picture of some dude’s ass pressed against a book that holds what is apparently the only they’re getting out of this without destroying the world, but he can’t make his face crack the grin.

He’s just settling the mattress back into place when there’s a rap on his door. He looks up and sees Cas.

“How are you?” Cas asks.

Dean shrugs. “Just really tired, but, I don’t—I can feel Michael pounding on my head, man. What if he gets out while I’m sleeping?”

Cas hesitates, then comes farther into the room, pulling the door shut behind him. “I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.”

Even with Cas’s promise and Cas’s fingers stroking his scalp, sleep is hard won. It’s only after the fifth time that Cas grumbles that he’s just going to knock Dean out with his grace that Dean finally finds a comfortable spot and settles into an uneasy sleep, his dreams haunted by metal coffins.

The next morning, Dean wakes up to find Cas already gone. The bed doesn’t even have any lingering heat, so he must have left a while ago. Dean clenches his jaw and peels up his mattress, getting Billie’s book out again just to run his fingers over the words.

The rest of the week passes in a blur. Cas has sent him some texts that he’s following some Michael-related leads, but Dean hasn’t responded. He’s already teetering on the edge of his plan with the box, and he doesn’t need anyone prying it out of him or trying to stop him. Especially not Cas. Whenever he starts to waver from the plan, the pounding in his head convinces him to stay on course. He’s barely sleeping, but he’s on edge all the time, his adrenaline never giving him a break. “You good?” Sam asks in concern when Dean’s coffee sloshes over the sides of his mug because his hand won’t stop trembling.

“Fine.” Dean wishes he could drink until he couldn’t remember his problems, but he can’t risk getting drunk and letting Michael have the upper hand.

Eventually, it seems stupid to keep putting it off. He’s more tired by the day, and he doesn’t know how much longer he can hold Michael back for. Sam’s not finding anything in the lore that’s helpful, so he goes. He does his victory tour. He gives Sam a hug, sees Donna, and goes and visits his mom. He doesn’t talk to Cas.

He starts working on the box while he’s at Donna’s cabin visiting his mom. It’s perfect—there’s an equipped shop with hot cowboy posters hanging up, and, more importantly, it’s not right under Sam’s big, obnoxiously curious nose.

His box building is interrupted when he answers his mom’s phone, and it’s Donna, a frantic note in her voice. “He got the drop on me, Dean. He’s going after your mom!”

Dean blinks. He just woke up, and he’s not following. “What? Who?”

“Nick!”

Dean curses. He has a brief moment of regret that Nick escaped the drooling, shell of a vessel fate, but he immediately feels a little bad. He just wishes Nick hadn’t turned into a pain in their asses. Dean darts out of the cabin and hears a rustling, so he pulls his gun up. It’s Sam, and Dean gulps. They have bigger problems than Sam finding out about the box, though. “It’s Mom. She’s gone.”

After they deal with Nick’s whiny ass, his mom turns on him. “I saw, Dean. Donna’s shed. I know what you’ve been building, planning. And we’re gonna talk about that. All three of us are going to talk about it,” she says meaningfully, “so if you don’t tell Sam, I will.”

The whole sordid plan comes out, and Sam looks at him with increasing horror the whole time. “There has to be another way!” Sam protests, but Dean just shakes his head.

“There’s not, okay? There—you’ve tried. Cas has tried. Jack… And I love you for trying, but none of it’s going to work.”

Sam tries to argue, but Dean tells him about Billie, about the book, about how this is his only choice if he doesn’t want to watch the world burn.

“So, you came out here on some sick, secret farewell tour? You were going to leave, and you weren’t even going to tell me? Me? Do you realize how messed up that is, how unfair?”

“I don’t have a choice, Sam! You’re the last person I could tell, the last person I could be around, because you’re the only one who could’ve talked me out of it. And I won’t be talked out of it. I’m doing this. Now, you can either let me do it alone, or you could help me, but I’m doing this.”

Sam gives him a searching look. “Alright,” he finally says.

Sam mainly drops the topic over the next few days, but when he does bring it up, he tiptoes around trying to get Dean to change his mind. Probably some reverse psychology thing, Dean muses. He’s made up his mind, though, and nothing Sam says is going to change it. His phone starts vibrating, and he looks down to see Cas is trying to call him. He sets his phone back down.

He goes to Sam. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

He runs his hands over Baby’s leather, breathing in her scent. He wants to make sure he really appreciates this last drive. He squeezes his hands around the steering wheel, smiling at the way it’s molded to show the grip of his hands. He takes a deep breath and throws his duffel in the trunk. “You coming?” he asks gruffly. He doesn’t like the way Sam’s looking at him.

On the way, Sam finds a case. “Yeah. One last case for the Winchester boys,” Dean finds himself agreeing. After they learn their vics all have _enochian _carved into them, Dean’s convinced Sam found this case just so he’d have to talk to Cas. He huffs through his nose before pulling out his phone and thumbing down to Cas’s name.

“Dean! It’s so good to hear from you!”

Dean’s surprised at the reception. He expected it be a bit chillier after he froze Cas out. “Uh. Well, good. Listen, Cas. Sam and I are working this case—”

“You’re working a case? That is so good to hear. So, I assume that means you’re not going through with it, because I have to say, this plan of yours—it was born of desperation, not reason.”

The bottom of Dean’s stomach drops out. “My plan?”

Cas falters. “I know that I’m not supposed to know, but…”

“Look, I’m fine with my plan, okay? We can talk about my plan later.”

“Dean, you’re making a terrible mistake,” Cas says, and Dean’s gut clenches.

This is exactly what he didn’t want to happen. He bursts forward with asking about the case. “The name Tony Alvarez ring any bells?”

Cas gives him some explanation, but ultimately, Dean learns he’s next in line to be prophet.

“Okay. Thanks, Cas.”

He pulls his phone away from his ear to hang up, but he hears Cas still talking, “Wait, Dean. Dean, we need to have a conversation.”

“Look, I really have to handle this right now, okay? So, thank you, and, uh, it’s good to hear your voice.” That’s all Dean lets himself say before he hangs up. He knows if he stays on the phone longer, truths about how scared he is, how unsure, how much he doesn’t even want to do this will come pouring out. He runs back to Sam, and the case. He can save one more person before he goes, at least.

He turns a glare on Sam when he finds him again. “Really?”

“Dean, it’s Cas. I had to tell him,” Sam says, his hands raised in placation.

Dean rolls his eyes, but he calls Donatello’s hospital to see what’s up with their line of prophets. He lies about being Donatello’s nephew and learns that he’s still alive.

Later, after they’ve found Alvarez, and he kills himself, Sam calls Cas. “The natural order’s been upset. Perhaps Donatello’s state has created a prophet who’s not only premature, but malformed,” he says.

“So the other prophets are going to be wired wrong, too? How do we end this?” Sam asks.

Dean just looks at him. “You know how.”

They go pay Donatello a visit. He’s still lying in the hospital bed where they left him with a cannula up his nose. Dean feels another pang of regret for how this whole thing has played out. He doesn’t have long to dwell, though, because then the doctor comes in that he talked to on the phone, and he has to play the part of loving nephew. His rendition is cut short by the arrival of—Cas. They step outside the room, and he’s fully decked out, with a lab coat, and Dean doesn’t let himself look down to see if he’s wearing cowboy boots. The other doctor greets Cas like it’s just another day in the office before beckoning Sam and Dean back into Donatello’s room, so he can show them this ‘babbled word’ Donatello spouts occasionally.

Cas stops Dean from following. “What happened to him, that was my fault, but it was necessary. That doesn’t mean I don’t regret it, though. It doesn’t mean that I don’t wish that there could’ve been another way.”

“I know the feeling.”

Cas looks affronted. “Oh, no. Don’t compare this with your suicidal plan. Just stop.”

“Okay, alright. Why don’t we talk about this later?”

“Because, according to your plan, there won’t be a later,” Cas hisses.

“Cas, if you’re a friend of mine, then you will understand that I have to do this and you won’t try to stop me. You think this is easy on me? This has to be done.”

“So, then this is goodbye?” Cas demands.

Sam walks out of Donatello’s room, and Dean’s relieved for the interruption, for once. This is so not a conversation he wants to have.

It turns out Donatello was reciting enochian, and Cas thinks it’s him sorting through all his prophet knowledge. “I have to try to heal him.”

They stand around as Cas hovers his hand over Donatello until he jerks upright. “Well, look at that. It’s a miracle.” Dean grins.

Dean and Cas hover around Donatello as he spoons some jello out of a container until Dean can’t stand the tension anymore. He leaves the room right as Donatello asks what happened. “Cas will catch you up.”

He walks out of the hospital to see Sam leaning on Baby with a six pack beside him. “Where’s the party?”

“It’s right here,” Sam replies, as he tosses Dean a beer, “I mean, we’re celebrating, right?”

“Okay,” Dean says bemusedly.

“Yeah, but not too much. Tomorrow morning, we’re back on track. No rest for the self destructive.” The corners of Sam’s mouth turn down bitterly.

“Well, I’ll call this a win. Kind of nice, going out on a high.”

“‘Going out’ being the operative phrase.”

“Sorry,” Dean shrugs.

“How sorry are you? Sorry that you fight to keep Donatello alive, but when it comes to you, you just throw in the towel? Or are you sorry that, after all these years, our entire lives, after I’ve looked up to you, learned from you, copied you, followed you to Hell and back… Are you sorry that all of that means nothing now?” Sam asks, distress clear in his voice, and Dean whips his head up.

“Who’s saying that?”

“You are, when you tell me I have to kill you. When you’re telling me that I have to just throw everything we stand for, throw away faith, throw away family. We’re the guys who saved the world. We don’t just check out of it!” Sam shoves Dean, but Dean can’t even summon up any righteous anger.

“Sam, I have tried everything. I have one card left to play, and I have to play it.”

“You have one card today, but we’ll find another one tomorrow. If you quit on us today, though, there will be no tomorrow! You tell me you don’t know what else to do. I don’t either, not yet. But what you’re doing now is wrong. It’s quitting! I believe in us, Dean!”

Dean blinks when all of a sudden there’s a fist in his face, and his nose stings. He sees Sam move forward again, so he catches his wrist. “Hey, hey,” he soothes.

Sam pulls him into a ferocious hug. “Why don’t you believe in us, too?”

Something inside of Dean breaks. “Okay, Sam. Let’s go home.”

Sam pulls back to look at him in surprise. “What?”

“Let’s go home. Maybe Billie’s wrong. Maybe. But I do believe in us.” Dean sees Cas walk out of the hospital, but he keeps talking. “I believe in all of us. And I’ll keep believing until I can’t. Until there’s absolutely no other way. But when that day comes, Sam, you have to take it for what it is—the end. And you have to promise me that you’ll do then what you can’t do now, and that’s let me go. And put me in that box.” Dean finally looks over at Cas. “You, too.”

There’s no response from Cas.

It’s a long car ride home, full of terse silence that Dean can’t break even when he turns up the radio as loud as he can stand. Sam shoots him a glare and jerks the volume knob to the left. Dean huffs under his breath.

“Sue me, I’m tired of Metallica. I got tired of this album like seventy miles ago,” Sam complains and rummages around in Dean’s box of cassettes.

He pulls one out at random and studies the label. Dean glances over, and when he sees which one Sam is looking at, his face flushes red. Before he can snatch the tape out of Sam’s hands, Cas speaks up from the backseat. “Hey, I’ve been looking for that.”

Sam looks back at him, confusion on his face, but Sam wordlessly hands the tape over. “Thank you,” Cas says, and Dean chances a look in the rearview mirror, darting his eyes away when he sees Cas already staring up at him. Dean can feel Sam’s eyes on him as his face heats even more.

Back at the bunker, Dean rushes to his room before he has to talk to anyone. He really just wants to collapse on his bed and for everyone to leave him the fuck alone, preferably for at least a week. He knows that’s never going to happen, though, so he pulls his tablet out from his desk drawer and starts searching for a case. He’s interrupted by a knock at his door. He sighs. “What?”

The door creaks open, and Sam peeks his head in. “I didn’t say come in,” Dean gripes.

Sam lets himself in, shutting the door behind him. Dean studiously doesn’t look up from his tablet.

“So,” Sam starts casually, “you made Cas a cassette? You’ve never made _me _a cassette.”

“I didn’t make him a cassette.” Dean crosses his arms and finally looks up at Sam to shoot him a glare, rivaling any of Sam’s bitch faces, if he says so himself.

“Huh. That’s weird, because the tape Cas said was his had your name on it.”

“Maybe I was just letting him borrow it, so he could learn what real music sounds like.”

Sam gives him an unimpressed look. “Uh huh. Because if he was borrowing it, he would have called it his, right?”

Dean splutters. “I found a case,” he says.

Sam drops it. Almost. “Just, if you need something to fight for, something to stop you from locking yourself in a box, let it be this, okay?”

Later, Cas slips into his room. He actually lays down in the bed for once, but he keeps his back turned to Dean. He guesses they’re still fighting, then. Dean closes his eyes and tries to sleep, but he keeps turning over, trying to get comfortable, to find a position where his brain doesn’t feel like it’s trying to crack his skull open. “Dean,” Cas grates out.

Dean bites back the scathing reply on the tip of his tongue when Cas’s hand touches his forehead. He barely has time to wonder what Cas is doing before he’s asleep.

Cas is gone when he wakes up the next morning, but there’s a cup of coffee on his nightstand that’s still warm. Dean takes a sip and hums contentedly.

Their case leads them to a pawn shop owner that has a truly impressive collection of the occult. Dean thinks this guy could have given the men of letters a run for their money. While Dean and Sam are sifting through the objects, Sam finds something. “You’re not going to believe this.” Sam holds up a small white sphere. “It’s called the Baozhu. It’s one of eight ancient Chinese treasures. It’s a pearl that grants wishes. Sort of. Technically, it’s supposed to give you ‘what your heart desires.’”

Dean perks up. “That would be Michael out of my frigging head.”

A few mishaps later, they make it back to the bunker. Dean holds up the pearl and looks at it doubtfully. It looks pretty measly to solve all his problems, but maybe it really will help.

“Let’s do it,” Dean says.

“Are you sure you don’t want to call Mom, or wait for Cas?” Sam asks.

Dean bites his lip. “No. No. If this mojo works like you say, great. If not, why get their hopes up? So, what do I do?”

“I don’t know. I guess you hold the pearl and concentrate on what your heart desires.”

“Michael outta my head. Got it.”

Instead of the pounding in his head lessening, Dean sees something he never would have guessed around the corner. He sees his dad.

They talk, and talk, and Dean finds himself slipping into “good son” mode, but a warning glare from Sam snaps him out of it. Hell, this 2003 John has less than a decade on Dean. Dean sits up a little straighter.

And when their mom gets home, wow. It’s maybe a little creepy to be so engrossed in his parents kissing, but Dean’s caught up in it. This is all Dean’s wanted since his family was torn apart when he was four years old. It means a lot to Dean when his dad looks him in the eye and says he’s proud of him.

It hurts when they have to send their dad back, to keep the universe in balance or something, this version of John that’s so softened and loving because of their mom’s presence. But later, when Dean looks around at Sam, Cas, Jack, and his mom, _his family_, Dean thinks maybe he already has something pretty awesome right here, if only he’d take a look around and recognize that.

Things are still tense with Cas, but Cas wordlessly enters Dean’s room later and lays in bed beside him while Dean explains the day. When Dean’s done, Cas gives Dean’s hand a squeeze. “You could have called me, you know.”

Dean shrugs noncommittally and shuts his eyes to try to get however much sleep Michael will allow him to eke out, but he’s disturbed by Cas rustling around. Dean rolls over and cracks an eye open to see what he’s doing. “Do you keep that in my nightstand?” Dean asks in mock outrage when he sees Cas has pulled out his needles and yarn from somewhere.

Cas just grins down at him.

“I love you,” Dean says, because he wants to.

Cas sighs. “I love you, too. Even when you’re being infuriating.”

“Cas…”

“We’re going to find a better way!” Cas insists.

“Well, as long as that happens, you have nothing to worry about.”

Cas deflates and rolls his eyes. “Go to sleep.”

“Yes, dear,” Dean replies, turning back over, so Cas can’t see his shit eating grin. His smirk slips when he closes his eyes and registers the banging on his temples that means Michael hasn’t given up yet. He winces, and just barely stops himself from flinching when Cas’s hand lands in the middle of his back. Cas curls his fingertips on Dean’s spine. “Sleep,” he whispers, and Dean can feel the tickling sensation that he’s come to associate with Cas’s grace.

Everything goes black.

A few days later, they’re on a case, chasing down a gorgon Sam found, when the gorgon gets the jump on Dean. Before he knows it, he’s falling to the ground, unconscious.

When Dean blinks his eyes open, he’s immediately struck with how _good_ he feels. The omnipresent pulsing in his head is missing. The second thing he registers is _why_ the pounding is gone, which is the thing that throws him into a panic. _Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit_. After the wave of pure dread crashes over him, he feels a surge of anger. At Sam, at Cas, at himself for letting them talk him out of the Ma’lak box. Even if he was at the bottom of the ocean right now, at least Michael would have been there with him, not out and doing whatever the fuck he’s doing right now. Dean rips a lamp off the table and hurls it against the wall. He’s looking around frantically for something else to destroy, something he can wreck with his own hands before he’s just looking helplessly at the ruin that Michael’s wrought. The shattering of glass must have echoed throughout the bunker because he hears footsteps running towards him. He barely registers them, though, and he smashes a folding chair against the wall just to feel the jolt as the impact vibrates up his arm. He sweeps his arms along the shelves and hears the glass tinkle as it shatters, leaving tiny cuts in his arms. “Where is he?” he shouts.

Sam skids to a stop in front of him. “No, wait! Dean! Stop! It’s me! You’re in the bunker!”

“I know where I am! That’s not—” Dean roars, before Sam interrupts him with a gentle, “Dean.”

Dean takes a deep breath. “He’s gone. Michael. He’s gone.”

“How?” Jack butts in.

“This is my fault. I let my guard down. It’s my fault.” He rubs his hands over his face. _Fuck._

“No, Dean,” Cas tries to protest, but Dean isn’t having it.

“I told you!” he yells as Maggie rushes into the room, adding to the cacophony of arguing voices with her screams. Dean stops in the middle of his sentence, mouth hanging open as he watches Maggie glow with an internal light before she drops to the ground. She’s eerily still, and for some reason, Dean doesn’t think a mystery illness has struck the bunker. His gut clenches.

Rowena waltzes in the room, and Dean stiffens when he notes the unnaturally stiff way she holds herself. “Michael,” Dean growls.

“I could’ve burned them all, but I’m feeling very hands on,” he says, “If only Dean had used that coffin when he had the chance.” Michael twists Rowena’s mouth into a thin sneer.

Dean fights the nausea that’s threatening to give his dinner a reappearance. “Never too late for a good idea. Sam, gets the cuffs.”

“That’s not very nice. And if we’re not being nice, what if you couldn’t breathe?”

Dean gasps, but he can’t get any air to his lungs. He scrabbles at his throat, but it doesn’t help any. It reminds him of the first time Michael possessed him, and he fights against the urge to panic. “That’s a terrible feeling isn’t it?” Michael purrs, “What if you were also blind? And what if you just hurt?”

Neon flashes dance in Dean’s nonexistent vision, and he doesn’t even have he breath to exclaim at what feels like a knife trying to jaggedly carve out his spleen. “Fun as this, I think no more games. This time, you all die. This time, the world burns.”

The pain lessens slightly, and Dean can see a dim outline of shapes as he hears Jack’s voice. “Let them go!”

“You think you can match me, boy? This power you have now—it’s nothing, just a crutch. Burning off your soul? You’ll run out soon enough.”

“It’s worth the cost.”

“I am a commander of the host! I am the cleanser of worlds! I will not be challenged by a child!” Michael roars, each statement punctuated by a blast of energy to Jack’s chest.

Jack doesn’t fall back, though. “I’m not a child! I’m the son of Lucifer! I’m a hunter! I’m a Winchester!” he cries, coming forward to put his hands on both sides of Rowena’s face. White grace shoots out of her and towards Jack.

“Jack, no!” Cas croaks.

“”You won’t hurt anyone ever again!” Jack shouts as the last wisps of energy swirl around the room.

“Jack?” Cas asks.

Dean sucks in a breath and looks around the room.

“He’s dead,” Jack declares, lights bursting around him as he unfurls his shadow wings behind him.

Dean’s legs give out from under him, and he comes to a rest on the floor. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “You did it.”

Once his legs stop feeling like jello, he stands up to give Jack a clap on the back. He fights the wave of despair as he trudges into the war room to see all the hunters collapsed in piles, their faces twisted into pain. Dean hopes they’re not still feeling it, even in death.

Cas appears over his shoulder. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, resting a hand on Dean’s bicep.

Dean shakes his shoulders, dislodging Cas’s hand. “Doesn’t matter,” he says gruffly, “we’ve got pyres to build.”

Sam’s taking it hard. Dean gets it. This was Sam’s big thing, this was his way out. Get a network of hunters together, and then maybe he could finally bow out of hunting. Now, it’s only the four of them left. Back to square one.

Even though he wants to linger, make sure Sam’s okay, he’s tired, too. Now that Michael’s gone, he can actually sleep without having to worry about keeping the lock in his mind barred. He’s bone deep exhausted, and he knows he won’t need Cas’s help to sleep tonight.

He wants Cas there, anyway. “Ready for bed?” he asks.

Cas dips his head in agreement, and they make their way to their room. Cas lays a hand on the small of Dean’s back, and Dean pulls away. “I’m not going to have a problem tonight. I just want to lay with you, and then sleep. For a year, at least. Don’t wake me up.”

Cas gives him a bemused smile. “I can probably manage that, Sleeping Beauty.”

Cas climbs into the bed and settles himself under the covers, lifting an arm for Dean to settle himself into. Dean blows a raspberry onto Cas’s arm, because he’s tired of the seriousness the day has imbued into all of them. Cas cracks a smile. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah? You seem to suffer me pretty well.”

Cas bends his head down to give Dean a gentle kiss, but Dean brings a hand up to cradle the back of Cas’s head, pulling him deeper into the kiss. It turns hot and messy, more a meeting of open mouths than a skillful press of lips, but Dean’s fine with it. He pants, and he feels Cas’s hot breath puffing onto his skin in return. He snakes a hand between them, rubbing against the swell of Cas’s boxers.

Cas grinds against him, letting out a groan. “Ah, Dean,” he says, and Dean smirks a little at the higher pitch of his voice.

But then Cas is crawling down the bed, and before Dean knows it, the hot breath has moved from his mouth to his rapidly hardening cock. Cas tugs him out of his boxers and licks a stripe up his length. Dean watches in fascination as saliva still connected to Cas’s mouth clings to the head of his dick. His interest is interrupted when Cas starts to suck on his head before moving farther up, his hands coming up to stroke what of Dean that doesn’t fit in his mouth.

“Fuck, Cas, you feel so good.” Cas tugs and twists Dean’s balls around, and Dean’s helpless to do anything but wrap his hands in Cas’s hair.

Cas hums around Dean’s cock, and Dean lazily thrusts his hips up into the tight heat, making sure not to move his hips too sharply. Dean’s brain starts to haze over, but he gets a hand on Cas and spreads the copious amount of precome leaking out of his tip over his whole shaft. This causes Cas to rumble, deep in the back of his throat, and pleasure spikes up Dean’s cock to his belly. He squeezes Cas’s dick before sliding his hand up and down, adding in little twists that always get him worked up when he touches himself. “Mmm, you like that, angel? Your mouth is so perfect, shit. Always so perfect for me. Love you,” Dean mumbles.

They keep their hands and mouths on each other, trying to be at least somewhat quiet, for Sam’s sake, until Dean feels his balls tighten, and he tugs on Cas’s hair. “I’m, shit, I’m close.”

Cas just stays where he is, determinedly sucking Dean’s cock like he’s trying to vacuum Dean’s brain out his dick. Dean thinks he’s not too far off from it. Cas moves his hips, trying to thrust into Dean’s hand that’s stilled as he’s neared his climax. The reminder makes him jerk his hand wildly as he comes, right into Cas’s mouth. Cas opens his mouth to let Dean’s softened cock escape, and once Dean can think clearly again, he works on Cas’s cock with renewed vigor.

Cas makes huffing noises as he gets closer, and they make Dean smirk in amusement. “You alright there, old man? You sound like you’re about ready to kick it.”

Cas pinches the delicate skin of Dean’s thigh, and he yelps. “Hey!” he protests. “Don’t forget who has your dick in their hand, man.”

Cas throws his head back against the bed as Dean dips a thumb into his slit, and then he’s coming, spurts of come getting on Dean’s hand and the blanket.

“I am not cleaning this up,” Dean mumbles, and Cas whines from his spot against the headboard.

“Just this once,” Cas relents. He waves a hand, and the quickly crusting semen is gone from the bed.

“Thanks. That was good. Even though I told you I didn’t need your help to sleep tonight.”

Cas ruffles a hand through his hair. “Consider it a perk of the job.”

Dean nestles closer to Cas and closes his eyes. “I really hope Sam has a different benefits package.”

Sam finds them cases in quick succession, and it’s not until the fourth one that Dean puts his foot down. He gets the need to stay busy, truly, he does, but this is a little ridiculous. He just wants to sit down somewhere that isn’t Baby. And a little time to actually see his boyfriend might be nice, even if he can’t tell Sam that.

So, of course, when he tells Sam he’s staying at the bunker to sleep in his own bed for at least a night, Cas volunteers to go with Sam. Dean looks between them with exasperation. “You can stay with Jack,” Cas says, looking at Dean expectantly.

“Why do you think he’ll talk to me?”

“Well, because he looks up to you. And his soul—I mean, you’ve seen this before. We just don’t know how much of his soul is left.”

“And how am I supposed to figure that out?”

“I don’t know! Just talk to him. Get him to open up.” Cas turns to go get his duffel bag, and Dean throws his hands up in frustration.

He takes Jack to see Donatello. It’s like taking Jack to the doctor without letting him know they’re at the doctor, and he wonders if this is what pet owners go through at the vet.

For once, Donatello gives him good news. “I’d keep an eye on him, but he’s probably okay.”

That’s good enough for Dean. “Thanks, Donny.”

He and Jack are watching Queer Eye, and Jack is telling him he should put some of their fashion advice into action, when Cas calls him. He gets off the couch and slinks into the other room. “Hey, baby. How’s it going?”

“It was a psychic that was controlling the whole town. Sam briefly had a wife, and he was also wearing a sweater, which was a little unsettling, frankly. Sam seemed to enjoy the whole thing, though.”

“Ah, jeez. Sounds like you guys had a good time, then,” Dean says, then adds, “What color was the sweater?”

Cas huffs a laugh into the receiver as he tells him.

The weeks pass in a comfortable mix of cases with Sam, nights with Cas, and some time with Jack sprinkled in. Jack’s been trying to guilt Dean in to petting his snake, but Dean’s not having it. He doesn’t do scaly things. His mom returns, and things aren’t awkward between them for once. Sure, it hasn’t been a cakewalk, learning how to coexist with a mom that’s younger than him, but things are good. Cas has been acting kind of off lately, acting closed off but refusing to give Dean a reason, but if he wants time to puzzle out whatever he’s going through, Dean can give it to him.

But whatever. Michael’s gone and things are good. Things are so good, in fact, that they’re having a game night, like a real family. If Cas is out doing something he didn’t deem important enough for Dean to know about that, that’s his prerogative. Dean’s not frustrated about it at all. With nothing else going on, it seems to Dean like the perfect time to ratchet their relationship up a notch, maybe tell Sam and his mom with actual words that he and Cas are together, but Dean can’t deal with Sam’s smirks all by himself, so waiting for Cas to stop tripping over himself it is.

That’s all put on the backburner, though, when Donatello gives Dean a panicked call. Sam’s out picking up the pizza for their game night, so Dean and his mom take off without him. Donatello had started out his call with a desperate plea for help before dissolving into a throaty language Dean couldn’t understand, so he doesn’t exactly think there’s time to waste.

The whole Donatello thing turns out to be a trap laid out by Nick, and Dean resists the urge to roll his eyes. He’s so fucking tired of dealing with this, with all of the repercussions of Lucifer. It’s almost been ten years since they let him out of the cage, and it’s still coming back to bite them in the ass? What the hell.

They drag Nick back to the bunker, and he says he has Donatello trapped somewhere, with some sort of poison injected in him, and he refuses to tell them where he is unless they let him talk to Jack. Dean doesn’t even know why the fuck _Nick_ wants to talk to Jack, and he has half a mind to just beat Donatello’s location out of him, but his mom’s right there, and he doesn’t particularly want her to see that side of him.

Jack talks.

Jack reemerges from the dungeon looking a little angrier, maybe, but no worse for wear. “He’ll show us where to find Donatello,” Jack announces.

“Awesome,” Dean replies, rubbing his hands together.

He jerks his head towards the steps leading into the basement, and Sam follows him in. They lead Nick out to Baby, and he grudgingly tells them which direction to go.

They pull up to a warehouse that looks like it’s threatening to collapse, but really, Dean didn’t expect anything better. “You’re going to stay here,” he tells Nick.

“All by my lonesome?” he asks sweetly.

Dean sneers. “Look, you try anything funny, Sammy’s going to shoot you. Anything happens to me…” Dean trails off, and Nick rolls his eyes.

Dean gets out of Baby to go find Donatello.

He finds him and fights his way through a couple of demons. Nothing he can’t handle. What he can’t handle, though, is when he makes his way back out to Baby to see Sam on the ground, blood dripping sluggishly from his forehead, and no sign of Nick anywhere.

Dean rushes to Sam, careful to not jostle him. “Sam? Hey, Sammy,” Dean says, but there’s no response.

Dean grits his teeth as he probes his fingers into the wound. He knows head wounds normally bleed like a stuck pig, but this looks… bad. He calls an ambulance.

He does what he can to help Sam, but at this point, it’s more things that make him feel better. He cleans Sam’s face, picking out gravel that got stuck when he fell. He calls his mom to tell her. “It’s not good, Mom,” he says, voice thick.

Finally, Sam gains a little bit of consciousness while they’re still waiting for the ambulance. A flicker of hope lights in Dean’s chest. “Hey. Stay with me now, okay? We’re just gonna play a little game. We’re going to count. Count with me. One, two.”

“Two,” Sam chokes out.

“Yeah, there you go. Three…”

“You—you always put me first, your whole life,” Sam says weakly, a hand coming up to grab at Dean’s wrist.

“No, no. Shh. Come on, man. Just count with me,” he says, but Sam’s eyes are drifting shut again.

Dean terrified. Sam can’t do this. Sam can’t leave Dean here without him. “Sammy! Sam!” he shouts, but Sam’s eyes stay shut.

Dean curses, tears starting to pool in his eyes. Fuck, he’s never been able to do this without Sam. Dean looks at his watch, trying to gauge how long ago he called the ambulance when he notices movement out of the corner of his eye. He looks up and sees, “Jack?”

Jack races over and leans next to Sam, putting his fingers on his forehead. Dean’s so relieved, he can’t even bring himself to protest about Jack’s soul. He knows anything he has to say will sound halfhearted, at best.

As Sam sits up, Dean watches him cautiously. “Where’s Nick?”

“I stopped him. It’s over,” Jack replies.

“What about Mom?”

“She’s fine. Everything’s going to be fine,” Jack says, and then he disappears before Dean has time to ask any follow up questions. He shares a look of disbelief with Sam.

“Could’ve at least taken us with him,” Dean grumbles.

They climb into Baby and start heading back to the bunker, Dean sneaking glances at Sam occasionally. He can’t believe how close he was to losing him. The thought makes his heart pound faster, even if the danger has passed. He looks over again. “What?” Sam snaps.

“Nothing. Um. Just glad you’re okay, is all.”

Sam softens. He reaches over to pat a hand on Dean’s leg. “I’m here.”

When they get back to the bunker, things are quiet. Dean calls out for his mom and Jack, but nobody answers. “They probably just stopped for a bite on the way back. You know how Mom gets after a hunt,” Dean reasons. He tries her cellphone, but it rings from her bag on the other side of the room. “Looks like they left in a hurry.”

Sam tries to call Jack, but there’s still no answer. Dean has a bad feeling about this. Sam and Dean look at each other for a second, then, by silent agreement, they pull out their phones to see if anyone has heard from them.

Dean ends up leaving more messages than actually talking to people, and he still doesn’t have anything useful to go on. His phone starts ringing in his hand, and he sees it’s Cas returning his call. _Finally_.

“Hey, Cas.”

“I got your message. Nick was trying to raise Lucifer? Where is he now?”

“I don’t, uh, kid said he took care of him. So, right now, we’re just trying to find Mom and Jack.”

“Are they together?”

“Yeah?”

“Alone?”

Dean’s not sure why Cas is fixating on this point, and it makes Dean uneasy. His frustration from the past few weeks bubbles up. “Yes, Cas, they were together, alone. If you have something to tell us, now’s the time.”

Cas hesitates. “I saw Jack. I went to check on him, and Felix was sick.”

“Felix? You mean the snake?”

“Yes. Jack used his powers. He killed the snake. I think Jack considered it a mercy. I was going to tell you,” Cas says helplessly.

“Yeah? But you just wanted to wait until we were already freaked out?”

“I’m sorry. I don’t think Jack is well, Dean,” Cas says, and Dean can hear him keep talking, but he hangs up.

Fuck.

Sam tracks Jack’s phone to a decrepit cabin, Dean speeding the whole way. Sam calls Cas and tells him to meet them there, but Dean doesn’t want to think about it. His mind is whirring, bouncing around, trying not to linger on one thing for too long. He tries not to imagine the worst case scenario.

As they walk around the cabin, Dean notes some ash outside one of the windows, and he wonders what someone felt the need to open burn right here.

They go inside the cabin and stop dead in their tracks when they see a charred body.

“Dean, if Jack did that…” Sam trails off meaningfully.

“Hey, we don’t know what happened, okay? I mean, we don’t know what Nick did. He probably deserved it,” Dean says. But then he thinks of the snake, and his mom, and he feels vaguely nauseous. 

He just got her back, things were finally getting better. He can’t lose her now. He sees the door of the cabin open in his peripheral, and he whips around, but it’s just Cas. Dean squeezes his eyes shut as Sam gives Cas the rundown, his emotions bubbling up inside of him until they spill over. Sam’s saying, “Yeah, but Jack said—” when Dean interrupts him.

He can’t do this anymore, this losing every single person he’s ever cared about thing. “Who cares what Jack said? We don’t know what happened! But I swear, if he did something to her, if she is…” Dean can’t bring himself to say it, but he stares straight at Cas as he says, “then you’re dead to me.”

“Dean!” Sam interjects, but Dean doesn’t stop.

“No, he knew. He knew something was wrong with the kid. He knew it, and he didn’t tell us!” Dean clenches his jaw. Cas laid beside him, kissed him, had fucking sex with him, and he didn’t say a word. No wonder he’d been acting all sorts of shady lately.

Cas must see him fuming, because he says, “I was scared. I believed in Jack for so long. I believed he was good, and I knew that he’d be good for the world. And he was good for us. I saw what he did, but we were a family, and I didn’t want to lose that, so I thought I could fix it on my own, felt like it was my responsibility. So I left, and I didn’t tell you. If I could go back and just—just talk to him right then and there, I would. But I can’t, Dean. I failed you, and I failed Jack, and I failed—”

“Don’t! Don’t even say her name,” Dean cuts him off because he can’t bear to hear Cas talking in that small, shameful voice anymore.

He keeps talking like that, and Dean just might forgive him. But Dean’s not ready to give up his anger yet.

Sam’s phone rings, and Dean glances tersely over. “Who is it?”

“Rowena, hey,” Sam says into the receiver, putting her on speaker.

“Hello, Samuel. I did what you asked. I used scrying magic on the boy, tried to find him, but his energy is too unstable. It was like looking into the sun.”

“And Mom?” Sam asks the question Dean couldn’t bring himself to voice.

“I don’t know what happened or where she is, but I can tell you with certainty Mary Winchester is no longer on this earth.”

Dean’s grip on the seat back he was holding onto tightens, and then he finds himself flinging it against the wall. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“So what do we do?” Sam asks, and Dean doesn’t think the question was aimed at him, but he answers anyway, a cool rage coursing through him. “What do we always do when we lose one of our own? We fight to bring them back.”

Dean can feel Cas look at him, but Dean doesn’t return the stare. He doesn’t want to think of when Cas was the one of their own they were fighting desperately to get back. “Rowena should be able to help. She’s got the Book of the Damned, and she’s resurrected herself more times than we can count.”

“How? We don’t even know where your mother is,” Cas says.

“Then go to heaven and find her!” Dean shouts, then he turns to Sam, “Tell Rowena we’re on our way.”

The drive to Rowena’s apartment is full of heavy silence. Dean’s kind of surprised that Sam doesn’t try to break it, but he doesn’t pull back the blanket of quietness that’s draped all over Baby’s interior. A few times he sees Sam start to tense up, like he’s about to say something, but he always ends up keeping his mouth glued firmly shut. _Good_, Dean thinks viciously. He can’t handle Sam trying to analyze him right now.

When they arrive at Rowena’s, there’s no sign of her around the apartment. “How the hell are we supposed to keep up with Jack when he has wings? And now he has Rowena?” Dean huffs in frustration. Could things even get any worse?

The universe, of course, takes that statement as a challenge. It proves that things can, in fact, get worse, when they can’t manage to bring their mom back, when Cas takes all the bait Dean lays for him and their relationship spirals further and further out of control, when Dean has to swallow down all his emotions and lock Jack into the Ma’lak box after he starts leaving biblical deaths in his wake, when Jack inevitably breaks out of the box, when Chuck comes back and tells Dean he has to kill his son, and finally when the worst thing of all happens—it turns out that God was never on their side.

When Dean looks down his shaky barrel of Chuck’s deus ex machina at Jack, kneeling there sedately, he can’t bring himself to pull the trigger. The trigger’s well oiled, it’d only take the slightest squeeze, but Dean can’t do it, not with everyone’s expectant eyes on him. Dean’s never been one to kick a guy why he’s down. In fact, he’s always rooted for the underdog.

Dean uncocks the gun and tosses it into the grass.

“No! Pick it up!” Chuck shouts, and Dean turns to him in confusion. “This isn’t how the story is supposed to end!”

“The story?” Cas asks.

“Look!” Chuck cries, gesturing around them, “the gathering storm, the gun, the father killing his own son. This is Abraham and Isaac! This is epic!”

It slowly dawns on Sam. “You’ve been playing us this whole time. Our entire lives. Because we’re your favorite show? Part of your story?”

“Okay, Dean, no offense, but your brother is stupid and crazy. And that kid is still dangerous, so pick up the gun. Pick up the gun, pull the trigger, and I’ll bring your mom back.”

Even though the world feels like it’s crumbling under Dean’s feet at this latest revelation, he still manages to choke out, “No. No. My mom was my hero, and I miss her. I will miss her every second of my life, but she would not want this. Sam’s right. You knew everything that was going on, so why the all the games? Why don’t you just snap your fingers and end it?”

“Look,” Chuck starts, but Sam interjects.

“And every other bad thing we’ve been killing, been dying over, where were you? Just sitting back and watching us suffer, so we can do this over and over again? Fighting and losing people we love? When does it end?”

Chuck looks at Dean pleadingly. “Don’t do this.”

“No, we’re done talking. This isn’t just a story. It’s our lives! So God or no God, you go to hell.”

A slow smile spreads across Chuck’s face, which Dean was not expecting in the least. He was expecting to be struck down where he stood. “Have it your way.”

He snaps his fingers, and Jack lets out a terrible scream. Dean looks in horror, at the burned out husks where his eyes used to be as Jack twitches and falls to the ground.

“Stop it!” Dean yells, lunging towards Chuck, but Chuck raises a hand and sends Dean crashing into a headstone.

Dean glances up to see Sam diving for the discarded gun and lining up a shot. “Hey, Chuck!” he shouts.

He pulls the trigger, and Chuck clutches his shoulder. Sam mirrors the movement. “Fine! That’s the way you want it?” Chuck demands. “Story’s over. Welcome to the end.”

Chuck disappears, and the sky immediately darkens. Dean rushes to Sam. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Sam stumbles to his feet and walks over to Cas, who’s kneeling by the side of Jack’s body. “I thought Chuck said that gun was the only thing that could…” he gestures at Jack.

“He’s a writer. Writers lie,” Cas says emotionlessly.

Dean’s still not ready to admit he’s in the wrong, or that he already misses Cas, but he searches for something comforting to say. Cas was the closest to Jack out of all them, and Dean doesn’t have the willpower to be a jackass right now. He’s interrupted by a flash of lightning connecting to the ground near them. It strikes again, making the ground rumble. “What the hell was that?”

“Souls. They’re souls from hell,” Cas says in shock, as they can see masses moving in the distance.

Dean can feel the heat from Sam and Cas’s backs pressed against his as monsters close in from every side.

_There’s an angel on my shoulder_

_In my hand, a sword of gold_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can i just say... the swell of music when Dean and Cas are reunited after michael drives me a little wild. All right; I'll see you guys on the other side of s15!  
Let me know what you thought! <3

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [tumblr!](https://contemplativepancakes.tumblr.com/)


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